They always want to be first. First into the car, first out. They race to kiss me good night (and often miss the kiss in the process). Though I rarely see them race to pick up their toys I wonder how it is that everything is a competition and a hurry.

Depending on how you read the stats, I’m probably at least a third of the way through my life and for the first time I want to slow it down. I want to linger in the smiles with my baby boy, the cuddles with my three year old and  read aloud more to my six year old (preferably without constant interruption). I don’t want to hurry onto the next thing as much (perhaps with the exception of being debt free and finding a bigger house with more room for our growing family).

But I remember being so young that school days lasted forever, the time until a friend arrived to play was an eternity. I always wanted to be first in line but last to leave the party.  They can’t see past today, this moment. Everything has to be now. I know that part of me is still this way, being tired of waiting and wanting things to be perfect now. But I also know that being first isn’t always better, and hurry and worry don’t make the journey any shorter or more enjoyable.


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