Tags: children, growing up, parenting, patience
Before I was the mature, civil 29 year old I am today (wink), I was a rambunctious college kid, a wild teenager, a rebel pre-teen who barely noticed the adults around me, a hyperactive child, a mischievous toddler who once ran away from home and a typical baby who didn’t want to sleep. For some reason, it is easy to forget all of this, especially when you are in some public place and you hear a screaming or babbling child.
Must be the parents’ fault, right? Because none of us were ever like that, right? We were all perfect, well-behaved children. Can’t you tell by how civilized we all turned out? We never bitch about stupid, meaningless things, except of course screaming children.
I spent a large portion of my twenties away from all forms of children after 6 years of babysitting, and when I was exposed to them again, it was so easy to get aggravated by the shear energy of a child kicking the chair I sat in on that super tight flight – so easy! Granted, I have a very low level of patience for anyone, really. But now as more and more children seem to be popping up around me, I am turning a corner. It’s not their parents’ fault they are loud. They are still learning the ways of the world, still so innocent and excited about life. Now when I see a kid acting a little crazy, I just smile. They are enjoying life and God bless their parents who have to deal with that energy 24 hours a day.
But while I am at least gaining patience for the little people, I am nowhere near wanting my own just yet – so don’t get any ideas! I am more than happy to spend time with my nephew or my friends’ kids, but I am still fond of the fact that I can return them at the end of a visit. I have my own noisy household to deal with.