I want to be 2 years old.
Spending a week with my granddaughter in too-far-away Georgia last week made me realize that life is pretty much delightful when you’re 2.
For one thing, Ella introduced me to the wonderful musical world of “The Wonder Pets,” one of the rare TV shows she watches.
The moment she opens her bright blue eyes and shuffles sleepily out of her room, she plunks into her beanbag chair, sippy-cup in hand, and issues the order: “Ming Ming!”
For the uninitiated, Ming Ming is the fluffy yellow duckling that dons a superhero cape so she can rescue an animal that’s in trouble somewhere in the world – like the French poodle that was trapped at the top of the Eiffel Tower in France.
Ming Ming and her “Wonder Pet” compatriots – a turtle and guinea pig – leave the safety of their cages to build boats or planes or whatever they need to tend to their rescuing duties.
And they do everything while they are singing.
One warning: their songs worm their way between the folds of your brain and become a permanent part of its cellular structure. That means you’ll be singing the same song.
When you’re 2 years old, eating is an event. Shouting “My nums!” (Ella’s shortened version of “Yummy yum”) is all it takes to have a bowl of oatmeal or crackers and cheese plopped in front of you.
It’s a darn good life.
Then, after breakfast, there are so many things to discover – like judging the viscosity of equal portions of dirt mixed with water, or facing the physical challenge of climbing from floor to bench to tabletop in less than 10 seconds.
I want to be 2 years old because I want to spend the day coloring pictures, playing in the park, cuddling my doll, learning to use the potty (no more diapers!), singing the ABCs, mimicking every silly sound my “Pop Pop” (grandpa) makes, tasting everything and not worrying about being rude if I think it’s yucky, throwing rocks, chas-ing the dog and being loved by my mommy and daddy and Grammy and pretty much everyone I meet.
Sure, there is the occasional drama that requires a timeout and then a hug and kiss, but for the most part, life is exciting and wonderful and new every minute of the day when you’re 2.
I’ve always thought we should age backwards. I didn’t really appreciate being 2 when I was 2. But more than four decades later, I see that 2-year-olds have a wonderful outlook on life.
I suppose whenever I need a 2-year-old fix, I’ll just have to jet on down to Georgia to see Ella. Besides, we have more crayon pictures to draw, more flowers to smell, more cookies and ice cream to eat, and more cuddling to do.
It kind of makes me hope she’ll never grow up. That way I won’t have to grow up, either.