Progress and Appreciation

The playhouse is finished. At least the structural part. I need to give all the exposed wood a shot of primer, at the very least. But the verdict is in. My four year old declared it (or at least the porch railing I added on Saturday) "Outstanding!"

I wish for just a moment I could see the whole thing through his eyes instead of my own, which only see all the parts I goofed up on. It's so easy to forget to see things not in terms of mistakes but in possibilities. After all, growing up we had a lean-to shack cobbled onto the side of the house that was crammed full of old stuff and cobwebs. You could barely even get the door open. But it was the absolute coolest place!

Responsibility kills the inner child, I think. Or at least sends it to its room. It's hard to enjoy a playhouse when you're the one who had to build the playhouse. It's hard to live in the moment when you're expected to always be thinking several moments ahead. To quote Barry Manilow, "Oh, for the fun of them when I was one of them."

Instead I get stuck thinking of preparing bedtime snacks and getting kids ready for church rather than giving myself over to a good laugh with my wife over a linguistic near-miss.

Speaking of my wife, I'll extend Mother's Day just a bit and mention just how much I appreciate her. She is completely committed to giving the best to her kids (which far too often includes me). She's an amazing woman who approaches everything with a style and grace of a Golden Age starlet. She's my Grace Kelly, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, and Donna Reed, all rolled into one--dresses like them, too!

One of the advantages of being a husband is that you tend to catch glimpses of your wife's "press." It sufficeth to say that the general consensus is that I married well. I wish I could say the same about her. To quote Alan Jackson, "Be patient...I'm a work in progress."