There was a day a few months ago when some city workers came into our subdivision to repair the street. It was a warm day and my children had been outside playing all morning.
As I was making beds, picking up toys, sorting dirty laundry and doing my other â€œmomâ€ chores, I listened to the grind and scrape of the diesel machines working in front of my home. Nearing lunchtime, I went to call my six children in. They werenâ€™t in the backyard playing on all the gym equipment we had purchased for their entertainment. They werenâ€™t in the side yard playing kickball or soccer. They were in the front yard with awed expressions on their faces watching the machines on the street dig and dump and fill.
I watched them for awhile â€” my grubby little throng â€” amazed they could stand so still for longer than a minute, but unlike them, I soon became bored and called them in. I could see they were reluctant to come inside. â€œWe were watching the tractors!â€ my three-year-old exclaimed, pointing as if I hadnâ€™t seen the enormous machines. â€œWhy?â€ I asked. They all traded glances and shrugged their shoulders, and my nine-year-old answered for them all, â€œBecause theyâ€™re neat.â€
Later I thought about how enthralled they were with those big machines, as so many children are, and I myself had been when I was young. It made me sad to think that I have become so busy trying to keep up with everyday life that Iâ€™ve forgotten how to enjoy the everyday things. â€” Beliefnet.com