“Not to Go Back is Somewhat to Advance” - Alexander Pope

Efficiency has always been overrated, at least when it comes to watching a child grow up. Why else would parents long for the day their child learns to use a fork? Using one’s grubby little fingers is by far the most effective way to eat. Just ask any professional eater; you never see any of them wasting effort with time-consuming utensils. Why then do so many of us long for our children to use a spoon? No, of course it has nothing to do with the latter method being cleaner; no one has ever complained that a kid was making too much of a mess. Rather, I am firmly convinced the desire stems from an inherent understanding that efficiency is less important than a child’s ability to learn something new.

Take my little girl . . . please . . . Okay, I couldn’t resist borrowing that golden oldie, but as I type, ‘The Girl’ is upstairs in her crib, screaming as though she fears eternal internment within the confines of her crate-like prison. On a recent reprieve from her caged bed, she demonstrated a new-found ability. She cast off her antiquated form of mobility, namely army crawling about the house, and has since been moving about upon her hands and knees. I was so excited to see her ‘properly’ crawling that I got out the video camera to document this marvel. (I have even included a brief snippet for your enjoyment! You will find it beneath this post . . . but only if you read the whole thing!)

Yet this step forward, which I celebrated in the name of progress, came at a price. Her mastery of the army crawl was phenomenal; she could worm her way around the house faster than I could pick up the things she wasn’t supposed to be playing with. Her new skill, however, was a serious impediment upon her mobility. I was in awe of the flailing arms, knees, legs and elbows, all of which resulted in a painfully slow procession across the floor. There was a flurry of motion, yet very little movement. In fact, there were a couple times over then next few days when her pants were so slippery, she would flail about contentedly while failing to move even one inch! Despite my parental joy and wonder I had to ask myself, was this really a step in the right direction?

Other times, however, a child’s wisdom pushes through all the stubborn etiquettes we have engrained upon ourselves and cuts right to the chase. There is no beating about the bush, meandering of thought or lollygagging. (“You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you? Larry!” “Lollygaggers!”) While an adult might tame their tongue and hold back a snide comment, a child’s insight has no use for such censorship.

And so it was as I was introduced to a friend of a child of a friend at Andrew’s third birthday party. A brief passing of pleasantries quickly revealed we lived on opposite sides of the Chicago sports world. I invited Andrew over to show off his trained response, “We don’t like the Cubs!” It was not to be. Childhood innocence and insight prevailed as I attempted my set-up. “Andrew, this is (yeah, I’m bad at remembering names, what are you gonna do about it?). He likes the Cubs.” His answer could not have been simpler. It could not have been more to the point. It was the true essence of efficiency. He looked up at the man before him and asked in honest earnest, “Why?”