Two Little Girls and a Bench

It was one of those moments before dinner in which I could have easily moved into the busy rush of dinner, clean-up, and bed-time, when I was stopped in my tracks. Isabelle, with her round face, and bright eyes, and fifteen month strength, clamored onto a bench and made it apparent to me that she wanted to jump from its one foot height with the help of my hand. I obliged and a game began, a game that was immediately joined by Emmaline, her three-year old sister, who does everything with full abandon. Soon, I found myself holding two little hands as two little girls jumped off a bench in unison. What joy this moment held for them. Again. Repeat. They would have jumped as long as I allowed. Each little face starlit with the joy of leaving the earth for one brief moment in the company of one’s sister and one’s mommy.

Tonight I read in Chesterton’s Orthodoxy that, “Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged.” Little children see life’s repeated moments as sources of wonder and joy. Us grown-ups; however, often fall to Chesterton’s comments on us as a group, “For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.”

I wonder if part of the training of parents is to learn the exultation of monotony. I wonder if it is to learn the joy found in holding the hands of two little girls as they make a game out of bench and each other over and over again.

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