Okay, so you know that road trip we went on last weekend? It required approximately twelve hours of driving. Six there, six back. I know a lot of adults who don’t like being in the car that long, let alone kids.
Before you ask, no, we don’t have a DVD player, portable XBox, Nintendo, or Playstation in our family vehicle. (I know—so archaic!) So what’s a family to do for that many hours? Well, we aren’t completely in living in the stone ages. We do have iPods. But you can only leave those little buds in your ears for so long. We hadn’t gone far before we were chatting, being silly and laughing.
During the drive, I remembered why I write for children. They’re infinitely funnier than most adults, much wiser, and far less jaded.
Take my nine-year old. We’re on the road, driving past lots of billboards. He looks up, sees an advertisement for a casino and, looking puzzled, says, “Two dollar craps? What the…”
He was so serious. So truly confused. I’m still laughing. And I won't even discuss with you the ensuing debate over whether it’s pay or be paid.
Not much later, we passed a sign. Watch for falling rock. My DH pipes up, “When I was a kid, my older brother told me Falling Rock is a lost Native American kid. I spent hours and hours of my life looking for that guy.”
We had a good chuckle over that, but it wasn’t hilarious until the next day. We passed a gray-haired Native American man hiking nearby, and one of the kids shouts, “Hey, I think I found Falling Rock!”
Yeah. We’re a strange bunch. But living life through the eyes of my children gives me a since of wonder and fulfillment that nothing else in my adult life ever could.
Besides, they’ll always keep me laughing.