I miss my little girls.  I miss playing with them.  I miss listening to how they pronounced certain words.  I miss their laughter.  I miss trying to answer their constant questions.  I learned so much from doing so and had such fun.  They taught me how to see the world through the eyes of a child.

My little girls are not little any more.  They grew up.  Now they will not play with me.  Now they pronounce words the same dull way other adults do.  Now they still laugh, but not as much.  Now they do not have the same curiosity about the world.  They hardly ask any questions.

For the past month, I have had dreams about my girls being little again.  I do not know why I started having these dreams.  What sadness to awaken and discover that they were only dreams.

Recently, I found some pictures of me with my little girls.  I look at the pictures and daydream.

When my girls were little, we played at everything and often acted silly.  We danced.  We sang.  We drew and colored pictures.  They had red clown noses, which they were not afraid to wear.  Rarely did I ever hear my little girls say, “Daddy, I can’t do this.”  There was nothing that they did not want to try.  Life was all discovery and fun.

I never corrected them when they said a word in their unique way.  Garbage was “gardige.”  Water was “awwee.”  Snowsuit was “snowsnoot.”  Spaghetti was “scabetti.”  Resolution was “revolution.”

“Put this in the gardige, Daddy.”

“Daddy, can I have a drink of awwee?”

“Where’s my snowsnoot, Daddy?”

“Can we have scabetti tonight?”

“Daddy, have you made any New Year’s revolutions?”

What a joy to hear them express themselves!  Their mother would correct them.  “They should learn to talk properly,” she would say.  I was not worried.  I knew that they would learn to talk properly and grow up all too soon.

And grow up all too soon they did.  Now my girls worry about what other people will think.  They use the word “can’t” a lot.  “I can’t draw.”  I can’t sing.”  They say that I embarrass them when I act silly.  They will not wear a clown nose nor allow me to wear my clown nose.  They laugh less.  They play less.  Life has become so serious.

Perhaps one day, my girls will lose the inhibitions that came with adulthood.  Perhaps they will realize that they can have fun using only their imaginations and a willingness to play.  Perhaps they will start asking, “Why?” again, and stop using the word “can’t.”  Perhaps one day, they will play and pretend with me the way we used to play and pretend.  Perhaps one day, they will join me to discover the world all over again.

Will that day ever come?  Who knows?  In the meantime, I miss my little girls.  Oh, how I miss my little girls.