Screen Doors

It has come to my attention that children do not like to "be" anywhere. Send two children out into the glorious sunshine, and do they stay out and play the way they do in tide commercials and home magazines? No. They do not. They do not want to be out. They want to be slamming through screen doors, perpetually halfway between in and out. Once outside, something in the air makes them need drinks and the potty and band-aids and snacks. After a good three minutes of hard play, they come in with eyes like marooned sailors, begging for a little something to eat ... and by the way the half dozen friends assembled on the lawn are similarly afflicted.

The same happens at pools. No child wants to be in the water. They want to be jumping in and out and running on the wet cement. There is something about wet cement that compels anyone under the age of 10 to run. What are they in such a hurry for? Well, if they are out, they must get in and the sooner the better.

This drives me crazy, but being the ever just Libra that I am, I had to stop to consider if I, in my infinitely quieter, more adult way, was not guilty of the exact same thing. You see, I have this theory that we never really progress much past two, five at most. Things are just defined more expensively and more eloquently. If this is true, then perhaps this physician should first heal herself. After some thought I realized, with chagrin, that I too was guilty. On an average day, my brain runs like this: If I am cleaning, then I should be reading to my children. If I am reading, then I should be cooking. If I am cooking, I should be exercising. If I am exercising, there is homework and practicing to attend to.

Yes, often I do multiple things at once, and while that is not an inherently bad way of living, I realized the need just be where I am. To just do what I am doing and allow my emotional screen door to stop slamming quite so much.