Kiddie Cones and Best Days Ever

It happens in middle school. For most of us, it begins in junior high. We lose the child in us and begin to act like grown-ups. And I mean that in the worst way possible. We start gossiping about one another. We become fixated on what’s in. What’s hot. Our clothes and shoes and bookbinders are drab and dull. Everyone else has better everything.



We are so busy thinking about what's happening outside of home that we stop being present when we are at home. We begin to lose the contentment of those early days and the genuine joy in life. We have new wants. And that changes everything.


We look at our kid-brother and have a wave of nostalgia. For a moment, we remember what it was like to be a little child.

When we used to get a dollar’s worth of enjoyment out of every fifty cent experience. When the mom-kisses and the dad-hugs were given spontaneously and often. When a day went from drab to fab just because dinner was a pizza in town instead of goulash and canned corn.


When the disciples asked Jesus the question all middle school kids ask, “Who will be the coolest of all” (actually, it was “who will be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven”), the Lord called a little child to come to him. Jesus said, “Unless you turn and become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”


Unless your love is genuine. Your faith sincere. Your soul is pure. Your joy real. Your spirit humble. Your desires simple. Your trust complete.


Unless you remember what it was like to be like your kid-brother, you won’t make it. It’s time to reclaim your childhood. Not those middle years that really stole the life out of you. The early years when you knew you had much to learn and experience and your father was the most awesome guy in the world.


Unless you become the spiritual equivalent of that you will miss it all. Forget about being the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus said, you won’t even make it through the front gates.


Okay, time for me to stop at Dairy Queen and get the kiddie cone, buy a fake mood ring in the gumball machine, and remember to cross myself when I see St. Patrick’s Catholic Church across the road. Time to be a little kid again.


It's time for me to say what my daughter used to say every day when she was very small, “This is the best day ever.”