Friday night, my five-year-old granddaughter spent the night with me, and somewhere between baby kittens, a Happy Meal, dog kisses, and what may have been the greatest donut ever created, she reminded me of something I think a lot of us adults have forgotten.
Life is actually pretty amazing.
We’re just usually too busy, tired, distracted, stressed, or wondering why everything suddenly hurts after 50 to notice.
Our evening started with a trip to her aunt’s house to see the baby kittens she is fostering. To me, they were adorable little kittens. To my granddaughter? They were practically a religious experience.
She was completely mesmerized.
Tiny paws. Tiny meows. Tiny little faces.
Every single thing they did was worthy of her full attention and absolute delight. There was no checking the time. No thinking about what we needed to do next. No mental grocery list running in the background.
Just kittens.
Then we went to McDonald’s for a Happy Meal because, at five years old, fine dining means chicken nuggets, fries, and a toy you will probably lose before bedtime.
And she was thrilled.
We went home and watched her favorite movie. She snuggled in and eventually fell asleep with one of my dogs nearby, apparently having appointed herself head of nighttime security.
Another one of my dogs decided my granddaughter needed a thorough face licking.
Instead of being grossed out, she started giggling and announced:
“She likes my flavor!”
And really, how do you argue with that logic?
The next morning, she came along while I ran errands. Nothing particularly exciting. Just normal Saturday morning adult stuff—the kind of thing we grown-ups consider a necessary inconvenience standing between us and getting back home.
But then came breakfast.
I bought her a donut.
Not just any donut, mind you.
According to my granddaughter, this was the best donut she had EVER had.
It had chocolate frosting.
It had sprinkles.
It had cream inside.
And, perhaps most importantly, it was LONG.
Not round like the donuts her mom always gets.
Apparently, my daughter has been seriously underperforming in the donut department, and Grandma has now raised the bar.
Sorry, kid. 😂
Watching her experience all of these completely ordinary things with such absolute joy made me think about how differently adults move through the world.
Somewhere along the way, we stop being amazed.
I drink my morning coffee expecting it to perform its assigned duties. Wake me up. Make me pleasant enough to interact with other humans. Prevent unnecessary workplace incidents.
But how often do I actually stop and enjoy it?
How often do I notice that first warm sip or appreciate the quiet few minutes before the day gets moving?
How many beautiful sunrises have I missed because I was thinking about work, school, bills, laundry, errands, or the approximately 4,782 other things occupying space in my brain?
How often do I pull a warm blanket around myself on a cold, rainy Wisconsin day without stopping to appreciate just how wonderful that feels?
And maybe more importantly, how often do I rush past the people who make my life better?
The people who make me laugh.
The people who check on me.
The people who love me when I’m delightful and when I’m slightly less delightful.
The people—and animals—who make ordinary days feel like home.
We spend so much of our lives waiting for the big things.
The promotion.
The degree.
The vacation.
The new house.
The milestone.
The moment when everything finally falls perfectly into place.
And I’m beginning to suspect that while we’re waiting for the “big life” to happen, our actual life is happening quietly all around us.
It’s happening over coffee.
It’s happening under warm blankets.
It’s happening during conversations that make us laugh until our stomachs hurt.
It’s happening when a dog curls up beside us.
It’s happening when a five-year-old loses her mind over a long donut.
Maybe growing older isn’t supposed to mean becoming less impressed by the world.
Maybe one of the gifts of getting older is realizing we need to start paying attention again.
Because life can be hard. There are disappointments, losses, responsibilities, stress, heartbreak, and days when our grit gets one heck of a workout.
But there is also grace.
Grace shows up in tiny kittens and sleepy snuggles.
In chocolate frosting and sprinkles.
In a dog who apparently thinks a five-year-old tastes delicious.
In the first sip of coffee.
In a beautiful sunrise.
In the people who make us smile.
And sometimes we need a five-year-old to remind us that those things are worthy of wonder.
There’s a line from my favorite movie, The Outsiders, that has always stayed with me:
“Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.”
Maybe staying gold means refusing to lose our ability to see the beautiful things right in front of us.
Maybe it means looking at an ordinary day and realizing it really isn’t ordinary at all.
So I’m going to try to slow down a little.
Notice more.
Smile more.
Appreciate more.
And every once in a while, I’m going to try to see the world through the eyes of a five-year-old—where kittens are magical, dog kisses are hilarious, Happy Meals are exciting, and a chocolate-frosted, sprinkle-covered, cream-filled long donut can be the greatest thing that has ever happened to you.
Because maybe happiness isn’t always about finding something bigger.
Sometimes it’s about remembering how to be amazed by something small.
Stay gold, my friends.
And for heaven’s sake, occasionally buy the long donut.
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