Out of the mouths of babes…
Sammy came over to visit the other day. Sammy is six. He’s a precocious little guy, with a wide open face, a big toothy smile and a personality that is full of energy and enthusiasm for the world. Sammy’s mom is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’ve known each other since forever and any time we get together to visit, it’s always a treat. She’s a wise soul, someone I go to for advice when life gets the best of me.
Sammy loves my boys. He stares at them with a true sense of amazement and wonder, like they are the coolest things he’s ever seen. Little kids tend to do that with teenagers. They don’t get bogged down with all the stuff parents do, the periodic sullen attitudes, the “You haven’t a clue” looks we get when we pretend to know something, the lectures about behavior and grades and effort. Nope, it’s all pure wonder to a six year old.
No sooner had the car stopped rolling, Sammy was unbuckling his car seat and running, full speed, into the house to see who he could locate first. On this particular day, son #1 was playing one of those medieval battle games on the computer.
“What are you doing?” Sammy asked, curiously.
“Playing a game,” my oldest replied, continuing to fire cannonballs at his imaginary opponent and never once taking his eyes off the computer screen. Have I mentioned how much I hate video games?
Sammy was not deterred. “Is that you?” He pointed at the small army making its way into the fortress.
“Yep.” How’s that for scintillating conversation?
Boom. Splash. Thump. Bang.
“Uh oh.”
“What happened?”
“I lost.”
He sat there in silence for a moment. Sammy climbed onto the chair beside him.
“Did you try your best?”
My oldest looked up and smiled.
“My Dad says, 'always try your best'. Did you try your best?”
“I guess so.”
“Then it’s OK,” said Sammy.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.