Dan Morris: A joy seeing world through child’s eyes

A few days ago I was lucky enough to enjoy a day out with one of my best friends and her little boy – an absolute rockstar of a toddler who, I have no doubt, will one day break the world clean in half.

It was a pleasantly simple day trip – the kind we have all come to find a new appreciation for during these Covid times – and we enjoyed a relaxing stroll around a lake with a picnic to sustain us. The sun was shining, there was a helpful gentle breeze, and all was very well indeed.

My friend’s little lad is at that age of course where everything – and I mean absolutely everything – is fascinating to him. Living in the countryside he has developed a particular affinity for farm machinery, and as our car journey to our destination reminded me, he cannot resist verbally noting every tractor, trailer and baler his eyes lay rest upon.

Once we reached the lake of course, a whole new multitude of wonders were before him. Determined wetsuit-clad swimmers, young gentlemen attempting to paddleboard, mature couples enjoying a brew by the water, squirrels, wild mushrooms and children enjoying the sunshine all populated the lake, and to the youngest member of our small cohort, each was as incredible as the last.

Bold front-crawlers in a variety of neon swimming caps were a particular favourite of the starry-eyed little auditor who proudly catalogued every exciting sight that enriched his beautifully inquisitive little mind.

As we took pause on our wander by a particularly lovely viewing spot, my friend reflected on how much she loves to view the world around her as her smashing little son sees it, and on that day, so did I.

I’m not sure what age we get to when we start being naturally less impressed by what we see around us, but it’s a terrible thing.

I suppose it’s only to be expected. After all, the more we are exposed to something, the less sparkle it is bound to retain.

But I find it very sad to think that things that once must have enchanted us all as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little dreamers eventually come to be described in our minds with ugly words such as ‘mundane’ and ‘inconsequential’.

When I was the same age as my friend’s little thunderbolt, I am told with good authority that I was as spellbound with absolutely everything (animals in particular) as he is today.

Spending a lovely day in the sunshine with him, it was great to get a bit of that back.

The pleasure he took from simply watching the world go round, and marvelling at its marvels was a lesson of no mistaking. The world is full of simple wonders – try to make time to open your eyes and enjoy them.

So from now on, I am resolved to – as well as taking a leaf out of my labrador’s book – live my life under the wise council of a 24-month-old legend of the highest order. And that’s because he’s absolutely right – swimmers in neon hats are weird and wonderful; lads falling off paddleboards, getting up and trying again are inspirational and hilarious; mushrooms sticking up randomly out of a path are funny looking; and, most importantly of all, anything can make you smile if you look at it with your glass half full.

My mum has been poorly recently – very poorly. When she comes out of hospital I’m sure she’ll be delighted to know I’ve made a commitment to return to my two-year-old ways... peas thrown all over the kitchen, spaghetti strewn over every available surface, and Banksy-esque masterpieces fashioned in wax crayon upon every wall in her home.

It could easily be seen as something of a sad and nervous time at Casa Del Morris right now, but I can’t help but feel that being overtly sad or nervous would be something of a poor service to a woman who has spent 32 years teaching me how to smile.

Instead, I will take my lead from my friend’s little boy, the little boy I used to be, and every wise and wonderful toddler out there that will always teach their parents far more than they teach them...

Be spellbound; be excited; enjoy the wonder of everything.

It can be difficult to do at times, but if you set out to look for the best in stuff, you’ve probably got a better chance of finding it.

And with that, even in your most sombre moments, you can remember one all important thing...

As bad as anything may seem, it doesn’t change the fact that you may be the luckiest man alive. And every trial, however hard, has the potential to be nothing less than your finest hour.

I’ll remind my mum of that when she returns to ‘peagate’... a trial awaits her there for sure.