If I knew grandkids were so fun, I would have had them first

Early mornings, late evenings, even up in the middle of the nights.  I have decided that sleep is overrated.  This week, I am seeing this world of wonder through little eyes -- all the things I take for granted just because they are there, God's faithfulness in the dawning of each new day, the contagious smile of a sweet baby, and tiny wild strawberries found growing on the side of the driveway.

I have tried to write six times today to no avail, not hindered by interruptions but continual adventures, actually no hindrances at all.  We just returned from a walk to the neighborhood park.  Just getting there, oh so slowly, with a stroller, a scooter, and a little pink bike with training wheels, my four-year-old granddaughter declared with glee, "We are having so much FUN!!"

It took us twenty minutes just to get there.  After conquering the twirly slide, the climbing ladder ("ME do it!!!!"), and three face-plants in the mud, it was time to start the long slow march home.  And as I expected, I ended up carrying the scooter, holding the hand of a curious two-year-old, stopping every few feet, and pushing the stroller.  We were sweaty and covered in dirt, and thank you, we had a very nice time.

One thing was very evident to me.  I haven't said the word "hurry" even once.  I have been focused on relationship rather than some arbitrary list of "need to's," and realizing fun is a significant part of training up a child in the way he should go.

It is not that our grandchildren are more fun, but perhaps, just me.