We as adults often take for granted that we are the ones “in the know.” I’m the one with all this life experience, right? I didn’t reach 37 years without getting SOMETHING for it, yes? But I think in actuality, my brain of which I have been so proud has actually been causing me nothing but trouble. When did I decide it was so gosh-darned good at running my life? My husband once said that adults needs children in their lives to make us humble, and by now, you would think my humility meter would be off the charts. My children are so superior in observation, sensing, and understanding that I’m left wondering what I’ve been doing all this time. Living in a self-congratulatory cave, perhaps.

            People often compare children with animals, though it’s usually in an “Isn’t that nice but we’ll soon beat THAT out of them” way. But how astounding is that? Animals sense when someone is watching them, they know when it’s time to play and when it’s time to hide, they know when a big storm is coming. Babies and young children know so much more than what we give them credit for, and we do them such a disservice to their knowing by treating them as lesser than us.

Their empathy is truly exceptional. When I am exhausted, my children give me space, especially if they are not tired themselves. When I am ready to play and full of energy, they tumble all over me like puppies and giggle hysterically when I laugh and tumble them back. The one-year-olds know Logan’s special toys, and treat them with utmost respect. When one twin finds Logan’s treasured Eeyore doll, he stares at it with big eyes, then hands it back to his brother who has rushed over after sensing that hands other than his have touched his treasure. Only once in a full year have all three children fully fallen apart at the seams at the same time when I was the only adult in the house—usually, somebody looks at the scene of bawling children and decides whatever he wanted just then could wait.

I think another factor we don’t always take into consideration is children’s ability to assess and understand a situation. When I am out shopping or at the park, again handling all three children by myself, they all seem to know there’s no point asking too much of me. Two of the three children may grumble about their stroller time, but they tend not to make a scene. But when my husband is out with us, the children more often than not will ask more of us. This often causes me some ambivalence, because as every parent knows the kicker is finding the balance between making our children self-reliant versus leaving important needs unmet.  Of course, we do the best we can. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been erring on the side of meeting needs that just don’t need meeting. They know so much and can take care of an awful lot themselves when I let them.

It’s hard to pick in what way I’m most jealous. Could they learn any faster? My barely one-year-old daughter spent a week practicing shaking her head for “no” and nodding for “yes”, and now she answers questions direct questions with her head jiggles. My barely one son has mastered every chair, stair, ladder and couch in the place, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s hurt himself. My oldest son did the same thing. But I think what makes me the most jealous of all is my children’s unadulterated emotional expression as they take in the world around them. The good things make them passionately happy—witness the endless giggle of any child who has newly mastered a skill. Their entire bodies feel their feelings, and they express them in a pure and clear way that is endlessly refreshing in our culture where the stilted and repressive Puritans took hold long ago. I read once that the traditional peoples seem to feel their emotions more strongly than we do, and I wonder what made us abandon them when we got civilization. It’s made us a great deal poorer, I expect. May our children teach us the right way.

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