This week, Graciosa Mistress of the Parochial House and Sincerely Yours had the privilege of attending our youngest granddaughter’s second birthday party. She wanted to go to her third birthday party, but she wasn’t old enough yet. So I’ll have to wait another year.
On the way home we sat in silence thinking about the party we had just attended. It just doesn’t seem possible that we have eight grandchildren. I broke the silence with a small comment to this effect. “I’m just not old enough to be a grandfather to eight grandchildren. I don’t feel old enough to be a grandfather.”
From the other passenger in the car came a rather sarcastic giggle, if I do say so myself.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I replied.
“Well,” he said slowly, as if trying to collect his thoughts and use the right words, “trust me, all feelings aside, you’re old enough.”
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, and I was afraid that if I asked him he would tell me. I quickly changed the subject and said, “Didn’t Jordin look cute with birthday cake all over her face?”
She laughed.
Then I thought I was talking to myself, but apparently I said it out loud, at least loud enough for my wife to hear. “I wonder what it’s like to be two years old.”
“Get ready,” my wife said with a laugh in her voice, “you are about to enter your second childhood.”
At the time, I was quite annoyed by the comment, but after further reflection, I don’t see anything wrong with that. After all, what’s wrong with enjoying childhood a second time?
I really don’t think it’s possible to enjoy childhood for the first time. There are so many things to interfere.
First of all, parents constantly tell you what to do or what not to do. Telling you when to go to bed. Telling you when to get up in the morning. Telling you when to eat. Telling you what to eat. Counting… counting… counting…
How the hell can anyone enjoy life when people are always telling them what to do? The problem is that when a person is two years old, he has absolutely no leverage against overbearing parents. The only thing the two-year-old can do to outwit her parents is wait until they’re in the supermarket with a lot of people around, and then throw a tantrum.
Here is the advantage of entering your childhood for the second time. No one is around to tell you what to do or what not to do. You are alone, at least in this area. Of course, in your second childhood it is not possible to have a tantrum in a public supermarket and get away with it.
The advantage of having a second childhood is that you have all that experience behind you to use to your advantage that a two-year-old couldn’t possibly have. This in itself covers a multitude of sins.
“What’s wrong with your husband?” Can someone ask my wife.
“Oh,” she replies mechanically, “he’s in his second childhood.”
“I understand, my husband is there too.”
And all is well with the world.
In a person’s early childhood, his perspective is quite limited. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. But during later childhood, he has the benefit of knowing this and using it for his own personal benefit.
For example, when the parents of a two-year-old take him to a restaurant, he is completely at the mercy of the parents.
“Eat your vegetables,” the parents demand, “then you can have dessert.”
There is nothing the two year old can do right now. After all, whoever pays the bill gets to say who does what.
Now, entering my second childhood, I have the advantage of knowing that all that nonsense about eating your vegetables first is just that… nonsense. And since I’m paying the bill, I’ll eat the desert when I want to eat it. In fact, I’ll start with dessert and end with dessert. And while I’m on the subject, if I don’t want to order vegetables, I won’t order any vegetables.
There have been many times when my wife and I go out to a restaurant and she orders a well-balanced meal while I order dessert.
“Do you know that vegetables are good for you?” my wife will insist.
“I don’t know anything about that,” I reply.
The two-year-old believes it when his parents tell him that vegetables are good for him, especially green vegetables. But someone like me, who enjoys the second round of his childhood, knows that this is not entirely true. And it’s not true that I have to clean my plate before I can eat my dessert.
As a mature man enjoying his second childhood, I don’t have to believe everything people tell me. If dessert wasn’t good for me, why in the world does it taste so good to me?
I have good biblical evidence that God is on my side here. In the Psalms I read about God, “Who satisfies your mouth with good things, and your youth is renewed like that of the eagle” (Psalms 103:5 KJV).
God has my best interest in mind for the longest period of time.
