a drive to Bolivia

I had a delightful conversation with a stranger’s 3 yr old today.  Actually, I didn’t do much talking at all. This little cutie was talking 90 miles per hour and would sometimes slip into Spanish, and other times jumble up her words in the way only a 3 yr old can do.  But most of the time I understood her. Even so, following the uninhibited, stream-of-consciousness chatter of a preschooler is quite a mental workout. We were at the play-therapists office (we need a play therapist to help us understand how badly we’ve screwed up our kids), and she saw me drop off my son with the therapist. It went something like this:

I sat down in the lobby, expecting to busy myself mindlessly with my smart phone, and I’m greeted with, “Hi! Did he come out of your tummy?” (her mother looked at me, mortified)

Me: Yes, yes he did. A long time ago.

3yo: I was in mommy’s tummy...(something in Spanish)… something, something… How old is he?
Me: I have a girl who is 9, and a boy who is 7.
3yo mother: You have two?
Me: Yes, that’s enough.
3yo mother: Oh, I have 5.
Me: That’s great.
3yo: They were in your tummy?
Me: Yes.

3yo: I’m 3! I will have a birthday tomorrow! (her mother interjects that her birthday is in October. She didn’t really need to because I already know that any time after today is “tomorrow” in a preschooler’s mind, regardless of how far in the future.)
3yo: My birthday is in October.
Me: Oh, how fun. Will you have a party? (as I silence my phone and slip it into my purse.. .this could take a while)
3yo: I have a party and we run around and scream and have races and play games and play tag and hide-and-seek and race and play with toys but not my brother’s toys because he doesn’t share. He won’t share! (this time with indignation). No, he doesn’t share (this time pleading, as if I should do something about the unsharing brother).
Me: Do your friends come to your party?
3yo: Rattles off several names sprinkled with Spanish exclamations. Her mother explains she’s naming her friends.
Me: Do cousins come to your parties too?  We have lots of cousins at our parties.
3yo: (with added fervor) My cousin is in Bolivia! We drive there in our car and see… (Spanish stuff). Her mother explains that they fly to Bolivia, not drive. The girl argues that they did, indeed, drive to Bolivia, because that’s where they saw Nickelodeon.
3yo mother: Oh, that was California! We drove to California.

3yo, looking at me: We drove to Bolivia.

The convo ended with her telling me about a pig that ate burgers and burgers and burgers until he blew up or something. I thought she said he ate “boogers” at first and thought to myself, “Well, that’s one way to deter your kid from booger-eating. Just tell them they'll explode.”

These, of course, are just the highlights of 10 minutes or so of chatter from this little doll.

I loved her.

Her precious, and precocious, little being drug me out of what could have been a mindless tunnel and reminded me of the crazy, fascinating details of life. Details that are mundane to adults but marvelous through the eyes of a child. Details that we like to lay out with order and sense, but when filtered through the nonsensical mind of a preschooler become fantastic.

You and I know you can’t drive to Bolivia, but that “road trip” is one her imagination is holding on to because it’s awesome, not because it’s possible.

And I hope my next birthday party is JUST LIKE HERS.

I mean, really folks – that’s some kind of party she’s about to have tomorrow. 

“We run around and scream.”

I’m totally doing that.

Of course I would be remiss if I didn’t also add that this experience brought to mind Matthew 18, where Jesus says, “…unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven…”

I’m no Biblical scholar, but my take-home from this – at least for today – is a command to wonder.

To marvel.
To stand in awe.
To not know everything exactly.
To be fascinated by details because God designed them.
 
And to drive to Bolivia.