A few years ago, I was standing next to a co-worker at happy hour. A plane flew overhead and he said, “Remember when seeing a plane used to get you all excited when you were a kid? Now it doesn’t. Everything gets dulled down by the repetition of existence.”
At the time I thought, what a buzzkill. Give me another vodka tonic, fast.
But now, a day before Junior turns one, I find myself thinking back to that moment. Junior’s starting to notice the world around him: birds, bugs, trucks, fish. And it’s like I get to see it all again, too.
I'm not trying to be overly sappy about this: Sometimes I do find myself thinking, all this feigned excitement over a smelly, nasty truck? But other times I catch myself wondering where I've been? My coworker was right about the repetition of existence. The world becomes so familiar and expected, you're on autopilot and you don't even know it.
And then you have a baby.
And realize everyone was right: everything changes.
Because really, can you remember the last time you wanted to show someone the world?