You be the mother.
And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands.

From Marie Howe’s “Hurry“

Children teach us so much. They learn quickly. They grow quickly. They understand quickly. Call it narrative ways of knowing. Call it beginner’s mind. Call it wisdom. Children see clearly. Children know what matters. Children speak truth (even while/when they try to stretch it). Many well honed adult skills — like hurrying, avoiding, excusing, multi-tasking, and more — are carefully taught, and teaching happens fast.

I think about my nieces. Yesterday, the were newborn infants. Today, they are driving cars. (This is not an especially earth shattering revelation.) I see life’s reflection in every inch they grow. I hear life’s voice in every milestone we celebrate. I get to see the movie of their lives in real time. My heart both smiles and hurts (a little) when they do things like get jobs, have social lives, and start adulting, too.

I suspect this happens with all children we love. They are born with the capacity to slow down and experience wonder, feel deeply and express themselves, build and imagine things we can’t even wrap our brains around, get lost and love every minute of it, sob uncontrollably and laugh from the part of their bodies that will grow to love bread and chocolate and wine. That’s the danger in hurrying. If we hurry too much, we miss it all.