When I first had kids, I was really looking forward to when they would be a bit bigger and could do more activities, play more games, and watch movies with me. Share the fun things and be playmates. I was never very interested in babies and was eager to have eight to ten-year-olds. But now that I have them at those ages, I miss having little kids so much. They really grew on me. They were so silly, such strange creatures. Small children aren’t quite like normal people. There is a lot they can’t do. But they’re so silly and weird. They say things wrong, move wrong. They’re always so funny and surprising. And they’re so passionate and excited and unfiltered. They’re a unique kind of adventure.
I wish I had something clever and insightful to say about all this, but I really don’t. Except perhaps for the reflection that life is full of surprises, and new joys and new trials await us around every corner. I never expected to miss having young children. And it’s not as if it was an easy part of my life to get through. But I don’t know if there’s any part of it that I will look back on with more fondness.
Since you can’t exactly prepare for what you don’t expect, I can’t distill that into any kind of advice for anyone following in my footsteps. Don’t close the book on what you may come to value, especially when it comes to children and family. Often the experience is what teaches the value; you don’t arrive at the table already seeing it and knowing what joys await you. No more are we born with all the wisdom and insights that parenthood, and our own mistakes and failures, will provoke in us.
Making Nobody Happy 