Clowning around

Thought I would share the first column I wrote for MOPS this year...

I grew up with two younger sisters, but we often had another playmate -- especially when we were quite young. Before my dad started working long hours, he often attended our tea parties, played with dolls, came to “school” when our bedroom was transformed into class and let us fix his hair and paint his toenails. I particularly remember my mom’s horror when he let us do the latter on our beach vacation. “Larry, everyone will see that!!” But our opinion (which was that our cool and goofy dad lets us give him pedicures) mattered way more to him than what any perfect stranger thought.
He also rode amusement park rides with us, barked at dogs out the car window on our way to church and teased our friends when they telephoned. We thought he did it all to embarrass us sometimes, but the truth is he was always searching for a laugh or at least a smile. You might say he liked to goof off or clown around. He really has a child-like spirit (still does!), but most of all, it was an easy and natural way for him to express his love.
Goofing off isn’t so easy for my more serious-natured personality. Thank goodness I married a child-at-heart. But now that I have children of my own, I find it much easier to be silly. At my kids’ ages, they think it’s hilarious when I sing the wrong words to a song…. “Twinkle, twinkle little nose. How I wonder what you chin. Up above the mouth so high…” and so on. They laugh until it hurts, and it makes me laugh, too.
But I really have to take it to the next level…um, the physical level with my son. There’s something in a boy’s rough-and-tumble nature that requires wrestling and running. Recently, I grabbed him and put him on my belly while I laid on the floor. I recalled aloud how he used to lay on my belly when he woke in the middle of the night until he was 20 months or so. This time, I flipped him over so his back was against my belly and “fastened” him in with my arms and legs to see how long it would take until he could work his way free. I used all my strength to keep him buckled in -- a good workout for mom, and he was laughing as he used his developing muscles to break through the chains. “Again!” he shouted as soon as he was out.
I don’t always have the time to get on the floor and play like a kid with my own. But when I do, I know I’ll always be rewarded with laughter. And they’ll a lot of mileage out of the silly memories of mom pretending to be a baby, tickling them like crazy until their laughter turns to tears and letting them fix my hair and even makeup (I actually posted a photo of that one on my blog…very scary!).
I admit it’s hard to leave behind the kitchen sink of dishes or set aside the already intimidating laundry pile for a rousing game of house with the little ones. Still, ten minutes can go so far, and I believe it’s an activity that God honors. Why else would God give us children if we can’t enjoy the silliness and carefree nature of being very young? If we don’t enjoy it on occasion now, we’ll regretfully realize our next chance is when we have grandchildren.