Do you remember Christmas morning when you were little?
There was that one toy you were just desperate for, convinced that you couldn't live without. And somehow, it always ended up being the very last present you opened, so that you were just on the edge of thinking that you weren't going to get it, and then, underneath that shiny red paper, there it was.
Remember that joy?
You probably squealed or screamed, tore the rest of the wrapping paper off like your life depended on it, and (in my house) ran around the house in circles because you were so thrilled to have in your possession the one thing you wanted more than anything else.
But when you grown up and reach adulthood, that joy seems to fade away. It's been a long while since I wanted a material thing so much that when I got it I squealed. Most things I want are practical, others I simply have to save up the money after working hard and go purchase it. I'm still happy with what I get, but I'm not ready to sing about it.
However, in parenthood, that joy returns in the weirdest ways.
Jace is just about 20 months old.
But he doesn't talk. He babbles, screams, sings, hums, and mimics, but he has said very few words.
To communicate with me he uses sign language, just the basics like: night-night, please, thank you, more, eat and sippy.
Tonight as we were finishing up dinner Jace signed "more" to tell me he needed more pizza.
He then said, "more?"
I squealed, jumped up and clapped my hands. I felt the joy.
That is the kind of thing I feel the absolute, Christmas level exhilaration over.
Parenthood is truly the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me.