Pursuit of Happiness

A happy childhood.

It's that elusive gift I think most of us strive to give our kids, but tend to lose sight of as the vision of their distant adulthood weighs upon us. What do I do now that will, as far as it depends on me, ensure that they're happy, productive, fully functional adults some day, engaging in satisfying relationships, contributing to their families, grounded by a strong conscience, etc., etc.?

But what about today? A mom on one of my local homeschooling lists commented recently that she thought a happy childhood is underrated, and it got me to pondering. I think our culture actually idealizes the concept, but when push comes to shove, much is lost in the rushing of our children from place to place, activity to activity, always one eye on the clock, and then wonder why they're so distractible. I'm as guilty as anyone else, but as God is my witness, I'm trying. Honest.

I don't know what my own three will think of their childhoods one day, but a day like today, not extraordinary by any means, gives me hope.

Happiness is ...

Spending the first thirty minutes of your day rolling around with your siblings in your parents' bed, giggling, shrieking, and falling into a giant pile of blankets.

Blow-drying your own hair. Oh, and doing your own mascara.


Finishing your math and Latin exercises and taking two hours to build an elaborate marble run (because at our house, schedules and to-do lists tend to be suggestions).


Taking a walk to the end of street and back because Mama says you need sunshine and fresh air, which really means that SHE needs sunshine and fresh air. Shhhhh.

Getting "smiley faces" for snack (apple slices with almond butter and chocolate chips)



Picking out the peanut butter and measuring rice from a bulk bin all by yourself at the grocery store.

Crying because your little sister's bare feet forfeited you a library foray, but having your tears dried with hugs and kisses and homemade popcorn.

Sitting on the front steps, waiting for Daddy, and cutting up old catalogs to make favorite-thing collages.

Knowing that every time your mom or dad says the words, "I have something important to tell you," they will, without a shadow of a doubt, be followed by, "I really, REALLY love you."