Working with the kids to put together the children's pageant has been no end of fun this year. They've jumped right in, laughed at the jokes, worked hard, learned lines, come to practice, and . . . it's going to be another cute program. And I've learned something: Cute is as good as it gets, probably, for children's pageants. Never thought I'd say that . . .
Love these kids, though. My heart breaks for their little heart breaks. And I wish they didn't have to struggle with the limits of the people, like me, who are trying to raise them well. And I wish they could all be healthy and smart and have sunny dispositions and grow up in an easy and simple world. They aren't, they don't and they can't. But they go at living with such earnestness and enthusiasm. So I am tremendously impressed by them.
When I was a (much) younger woman, I didn't think I liked kids. And I still don't like "kids" as a big category any more than I like any other big category of people. I'm not a big believer in any particular brand of human existence. Age, religion, ethnicity, gender. I haven't found a group that I think is made up of all great folks. I don't know if you've noticed this, but some people stink. There are stinky old folks, stinky believers of every persuasion, stinky people of every race, stinky women and men. Some kids stink, too, and it's just as hard to figure out who the stinkers are when they are three feet tall as when they shoot up to 6' or more. But, with the short ones, there is more hope, I think, that they'll wise up and actually love something or someone other than themselves. Taller humans - it takes a big shock to wise them up. Kids are getting big shocks all the time. Some adjust in the direction of being more beautiful and human. I like to be around to see those shifts, when they happen. Maybe I do like kids, after all. Nah. I love every single one of these kids. And I like them, too. But I probably still don't like "kids".