Me, me, me

My eldest child is still young enough that I find his self-centeredness adorable and endearing. It is, I suppose, because he is self-centered in an entirely childlike way. It's not selfishness that I love -- the refusal to share a toy train or a bite of a treat with his brother. This tendency I am often quick to correct (save those times when I've just had it, and those two can figure it out for themselves!). No, the self-centeredness that I love is revealed in Jonah's proclamation to his grandma: "Someone must have left it there just for me!" while he shows her the new coloring book that we bought from the supermarket. It's revealed in the coloring of cards for a variety of adult friends and the expectation that thet will be overjoyed upon receipt. In the introduction of his younger brother to his teacher at a Parks District class with overwhelming enthusiasm, clearly indicating that Mr Tom should be excited to meet Manny. With Jonah's selfish tendencies, I've started to bring to his attention how the other person feels: "Manny doesn't like it when you take his food, Jonah, and you wouldn't like it if he took yours." These self-centered tendencies, though, I just let go. Soon enough, Jonah will learn that a coloring book is just one of hundreds churned out by a publisher looking to make a buck; that many adults look at a 3 year old's coloring and just see a mess of scribbles; that not everyone is interested in him, let alone his brother. (Though this doesn't apply to Mr Tom; Mr Tom is actually very kind.) Soon enough, Jonah will learn not just that the world doesn't revolve around him, but the extent to which it really doesn't revolve around him. Some day Jonah will be crushed by the disappointment of learning that he's not as important to somebody as that somebody is to him -- the last thing that I want to do is hasten that day. Though self-centeredness is not a virtue, there is something pure in the self-centeredness of a child: He can hardly imagine that the world might let him down and he's going to enjoy every second of the world living up to his highest expectations. There is so much in this embrace of life and of the world that I lack, and that most adults lack. We're disappointed and jaded and our defenses are up. We expect the worst -- or at least something bad -- and that is what comes to pass. That's life, I guess, in a fallen world, and I know that my precious children will have to face it and live with it in the course of their lives. While I can, though, I will keep them safe in the bubble of their own innocence: For the first several years of life, at least, the world should be rose-colored.