Aloha

Ah, to be young and innocent again; when my parents bought my clothes, did the grocery shopping, cooking, and laundry, mowed the lawn, washed the car, fixed light bulbs, paid the bills, and took me on vacations (I was expected to dust and clean my room, however, so it wasn't all fun and games).  And I never stopped to wonder how they made it all happen - just accepted it, expected it, and rarely said thanks for it.  Only now do I understand that molding my world into the comfortable place it was must not have been easy.

These realizations make it easier for me to understand why Jaylynn would, in all seriousness, ask when the first graders would be going to Hawaii.

It was our fault.  We confused her.  The day before, as we prepared to teach the first graders Ulili e, a Hawaiian dance, we asked excitedly, "Are you all ready to travel to Hawaii?!"  Not surprisingly, the answer was an enthusiastic, "YEAH!" 

In our defense, following our kind offer we did explain that the traveling would be done in our imaginations, but Jaylynn must already have skipped ahead to imagining what she would pack for the trip and how she would break it to Mom and Dad that she would be gone for a few days.

"Oh, Jaylynn," I said in a regretful tone, tinged with the tiniest hint of laughter, "We were just imagining that we were traveling to Hawaii.  We aren't actually going there, sweetheart."  Judging by the look on her face, she clearly did not understand.  We had, after all, gone to the Children's Museum not two weeks before. 

It seems ironic, somehow, that we cannot appreciate the beauty of our innocence until it is behind us.  I guess that's what kids are for.  To remind us what we used to have and can no longer enjoy because it's gone.  You gotta love 'em.