All grown-ups were once children

One of my top ten favorite books of all time is The Little Prince. It speaks to my soul. You can read more about why here , but one big reason is because it reminds me how to “become as a little child.” (Matt 18:1-6) In the introduction the author gives these wise words, “All grown-ups were once children, though few of them remember it.”

We started a new read aloud this week as a family, and in the introduction the author writes, “Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in.”

I read this book when I was in college, and I remember enjoying it. But this time around, reading it with my children has given me a whole other level of joy.

Gems that we read tonight:

“..in order to make a man or boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.”

“…while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next to his heart – or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway.”

So, can you name the book?

Last weekend I overheard one of my 13 year old daughter’s friends ask, “Are Mark Twain and Shania Twain related?” Pretty sure my daughter didn’t know who either of those people are/were. That was the moment I knew that The Adventures of Tom Sawyer needed to be our next family read aloud, if for no other reason than that my children needed to know who Mark Twain was. (An introduction to Shania Twain will likely come at a future date.) But the genius and familiar dialogue between kids, the descriptions of their behaviors and logic, the sense of freedom to be a kid has captivated and enthralled, and we are only 4 chapters in. The prose requires some explanation at times for my younger ones to understand what’s going on, but the consistency of kids and their interactions and behaviors over the last 150ish years makes some things universally and easily comprehended. Full belly laughs have been commonplace.

I am content to be transported to a time when a boy’s treasure and wealth consisted of “a kite in good repair, a dead rat and a string to swing it with…twelve marbles, a piece of blue bottle glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn’t unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six firecrackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog collar – but no dog – the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.”

I am grateful for the reminders of the value of work and play, and finding worth and joy in the simple things.