Where is the magic?

What if every car ride was a little magical? Presumably it was once upon a time. Back when the car wasn’t littered with used napkins and empty bags. Back when my license wasn’t creased and my windshield wasn’t cracked. Maybe there was magic then.

What if light switches inspired wonder? If I reach back far enough I can almost recall a version of myself who marveled at it all. Remember the “new” flat rectangular switches? They felt so sleek, so modern, so long. But now I click them off with annoyance; the wonder is gone.

Not so for Little P. Every car ride is enlivened with hopes of a dancing balloon. We turn left and she brightens, “I’ll see my balloon!”. The two miles ahead are colored with expectations, “maybe my balloon wave?”, “maybe it’s sleeping again”. Finally, we crest the hill and she shrieks, “I see it!”. Pure magic.

At night she recites her favorite book word for word. She looks up with pride at all the silly parts she’s memorized. And when we’re done her eyes sparkle bright, as I carry her over to turn off the light.

These are the exquisite joys of early childhood.