I met a little girl yesterday, about two years old or so.
She had a picture book about Peppa Pig. I asked if she knew her.
She shouted “Yes!” with a big smile on her face, and came up to me to show the back of the book, which had one of those labyrinths “Help Peppa find her house”, where you’re supposed to outline her way home with a pencil.
“Look!” said the little girl, and showed me what she drew on the labyrinth.
It wasn’t anything near helping Peppa find home, but more like a big lump of ink right in the middle of it. But the girl was happy with her achievement and I told her what a great job she had done – now poor, tired Peppa could go home and rest!
The girl was so excited when I told her she had done a great job, she wouldn’t stop smiling or talking to me about all the things she could do.
I love kids. They’re adorable. But I don’t mainly love them because they’re cute, sweet, and adorable, but because they are so straight forward. There’s no mucking around. They’ll tell you what’s on their mind, and they’ll tell you what’s OK and what’s not. And most of all they’re proud of the things they accomplish – even the simplest of things – and we allow them to be proud. We don’t tell them not to brag. Because “they’re kids”.
But maybe kids know of a secret we’ve forgotten…?