Parenting has shown me the beauty in the mundane

My 15-month-old son loves airports. Yes, he loves to press his hands against the big glass windows and watch the planes go by, but it’s more than that. The airport, itself, seems to enchant him. In the handful of times he has traveled, he has relished every flight delay as if it meant a longer time at Disneyland. He could spend hours crawling and cruising from gate to gate, drumming on every seat and listening to the booming voice of the gate agent fill the room with announcements. He could spend an entire day riding the escalators up and down and up and down.

I used to be terrible at waiting, whether in line, at an airport, at a traffic light, or anywhere else. It was agony, that lack of control over my own circumstances. But my wide-eyed boy has shown me that there is magic in waiting. A long line means getting to wave and make faces at strangers. Traffic means blasting silly songs and sticking out our tongues at each other in the rearview mirror. Loud construction is just a super cool show to watch out the window, and a long plane ride means getting to try French fries for the very first time.

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It’s one of the biggest and most unexpected pleasures I have found in parenting – the way it slows me down. It has helped me see the beauty in what I once saw as the mundane, mostly annoying parts of life. My son has taught me to appreciate the in-between times, that there can be so much joy in the simple act of getting from point A to point B.

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Earlier this month, my wife and I were out walking with our son when a passing train got us stuck at a long red light. My first thought: how fun it will be to watch him watch the train go by. He had never seen a train so up close before, so I unclipped him from his stroller and held him up high. His wide eyes as it swooshed past made me forget we were even waiting in the first place.

The way I see it, no matter where I am with my son, we’re playing, and we’re discovering the everyday wonders of the world around us. So what do I care if I’m at home, in an airport, on a plane, at a traffic light, or in a long line for brunch? With him, passing the time is easy. Because we’re not really waiting. We’re experiencing what a leaf feels like; we’re practicing finding our nose and our ears; we’re oohing and ahhing at the whirring wheels of a garbage truck; we’re listening to the way raindrops sound on the window; we’re dancing to the insurance company’s hold music on speaker phone; we’re pressing our faces against the door of the washing machine and watching the clothes go round and round.

I know I will never experience these things with the wonder that he does, but the delight on his face is enough for me.