I made a big mistake right now and looked at the letters I wrote just before you turned 7 and 6. That's two whole years ago now and I can't believe how quickly you're growing up. As I told you a few days ago and on the occasion of your previous birthdays, these milestone events make me both happy and sad. But I won't dwell on that this time.
Instead, let me tell you about something else that really matters given where you are right now and where you may find yourself in the future.
Grown-ups talk a lot about their "inner-child", and finding their inner-child when they're older and get lost in the day-to-day mess of being an adult.
You see, for most people life isn't always fun or easy. I hope it always is for you, but there may be times when it's just not what you want it to be. That's okay, the down times make the up times even better.
Sometimes work is really, really hard, and you still have to do it day after day after day. Sometimes money is short and you can't buy what you want or need. Sometimes bad stuff happens and it feels like that squashes everything else that's good in your life. Sometimes people are mean or insensitive or selfish and they make themselves feel better by bringing you down. And sometimes you're sad for no good reason at all, or angry, or confused. Things just get that way sometimes.
It's very easy to let that stuff eat you up and to forget who you are, who you were, and who you want to be. This sends people looking for their "inner-child", who they used to be before they got lost in being grown-up, so they can re-anchor themselves in that tiny happy person inside: The kid who used to see every day as a big shiny promise; who used to find fun in everything; and who didn't have to worry about anything in the world.
You are, right now, the child that you may later be searching for inside the grown up you become. This tiny perfect person you are right now will always be there inside you. Your voice, right now, will always be a voice in your head, and you will sometimes want to stop and listen to it. Your wide-eyed innocent opinion of the world will always be sitting there waiting to weigh in on things. Your beaming optimism will always be sitting there intact where you can find it if you have to. Your inner-child is sitting there on the surface for everyone to see right now, today, but tomorrow you'll probably have to dig a little deeper to find her.
I need to work at it sometimes to find mine, but it's definitely there. I know that because there are often times where I need to work to hide it (like when I get the urge to stick my leg out when somebody comes running past me; like when I have to suppress an irresponsible giggle at the worst possible moment in a business meeting; like when I find the sound of a fart in a quiet room the funniest thing in the world). Right now, today, you are still a child in all the gloriously amazing ways that we all were once. Think of what a privilege it is to have a few more years of getting to be what everyone else wishes they were.
Love it. Embrace it. Don't be in a rush to push that child down and inside so that you can be a teen or a grown-up. Being a kid means you don't have to be embarrassed when you do stupid things, or when you don't know something, or when somebody sees you dancing around in a room alone, or when somebody hears you singing when there's no music, or when you play made-up games with no rules, or when you play with dolls, or when you get caught watching a show you used to watch when you were a baby, or when you draw crazy pictures that make no sense, or when you spit out food you just tried because it tastes disgusting, or when you change your clothes because all of a sudden you want to be all dressed in purple, or when you do a million other things that later you have to pretend you're not interested in doing.
Pay attention to all the things you see, taste, smell, feel, think, believe, want, know, think you know, and wish you knew. Freeze an image of yourself and remember it. Because before you know it you'll be looking for it. Hold onto it. Stay in touch with it regularly. Keep it near the surface.
I think I'm the least grown-up grown-up you'll ever meet. I'm happy. I'm successful. I'm often a goof (like the time I recently walked up to a Barista at Starbucks and asked what I could get her, or the time I licked out a bowl of ice cream at the restaurant, or the time I hurt my arm skiing because I couldn't ski and should have known better, or the time you and I made up inappropriate songs in the car - which is most of the time we're in the car, by the way). I haven't fully let go of the child inside because I don't believe you really ever have to or should.
Your older sisters, for all of their bluster and drama and grown-up angst, keep their inner-children pretty close to the surface too. And when they're around you, you get to see it plain as day. Be that way too. Don't take yourself too seriously - certainly not now and even more importantly, not later.
Other kids (and grownups) love to be around you because you are a good, kind, fascinating, creative, fun, industrious, innocent, amazing KID. Your facial expressions, your choice of words, your wry smile, your sparkling wit, your petulant whiny voice, and your miffed and angry face are so real and so engaging (and cute) that we can't get enough of you. You should never get enough of being that way.
If you ever find yourself feeling lost, depressed, unsure, lonely, scared, ... remember this very best version of yourself ... and drop everything, put on some loud music and dance, or taste something new and spit it out in disgust, or watch some tv for babies, or make fart jokes or noises, or pull out some old dolls and make up a story about them, or colour something way outside the lines, or do any of the million things you do naturally every day because you're 8... and you'll find your footing again. Guaranteed.
I hope you don't ever have to look too far.
I love you and I can't wait to see the kid you are a year from now and a decade from now. Don't ever, ever, ever, ever, ever hide the 8-year-old away where you (and I) can't find her.
Thanks for this, David
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