Earlier this week I had made a post that got me thinking. I bought my 4-year-old a Lego set, and his response stopped me in my tracks: “I’ve wanted this my whole life.”
His. Whole. Life. Four years on this planet, and this kid already gets it.
And suddenly I’m crying because wow, when was the last time I felt that kind of pure, unfiltered joy about anything?
The Wisdom of Small Humans
Our kids drop these truth bombs all the time, don’t they? We’re so busy trying to teach them about the world that we forget they’re teaching us right back. My 4-year-old told me last week that “happy looks like yellow sunshine in your tummy,” and honestly? That’s the most accurate description of joy I’ve ever heard.
We spend so much time as adults qualifying our happiness. “I’m happy, but I’m stressed about work.” “This is nice, but I should really be doing laundry.” “I love this moment, but what if it doesn’t last?”
But kids? They’re all in. My son wanted that Lego set with his whole heart, his whole four-year existence. He didn’t hedge his bets or manage expectations. He just felt fully.
When Did We Stop Wanting Things Our Whole Life?
Remember being a kid and wanting something so badly it physically hurt? That Barbie Dream House, those wheely shoes, the chance to stay up past bedtime just once? That feeling of wanting something with every fiber of your being?
Somewhere along the way, we learned to temper that. We learned about disappointment, about budgets, about “being realistic.” We learned that wanting things too much made us vulnerable, made us look childish, made us… human.
But maybe that little boy—my little boy—with his Lego set is onto something. Maybe wanting things deeply isn’t childish at all. Maybe it’s the most human thing we can do.
The Permission to Feel Joy Fully
As millennial moms, we’re caught in this weird space between our childhood optimism and adult anxiety. We grew up believing we could be anything, do anything, have anything. Then reality hit hard with student loans, housing prices, and a global pandemic that rewrote all the rules.
We’re raising kids while questioning everything we thought we knew about success, happiness, and what it means to have “made it.” We’re tired, overwhelmed, and scrolling through social media at midnight wondering if we’re doing any of this right.
But our kids? They’re still in that magical space where wanting something with your whole life is not only acceptable, it’s the default setting.
Small Moments, Big Feelings
Last month, my youngest discovered puddles. Not just noticed them, but discovered them like he was the first person to realize that jumping in water could create such magnificent splashes. He spent twenty minutes in our driveway, in his good shoes (of course), crawling and laughing and getting completely soaked.
I started to tell him to stop, to worry about his clothes, to think about the mess. But then I saw his face, pure, unadulterated bliss. He wasn’t thinking about laundry or schedules or whether the neighbors thought we were irresponsible parents. He was just… happy. Completely, authentically, wholly happy.
When was the last time I felt that way about anything?
The Gift of Giving What We Never Had
Here’s something I don’t talk about often, but I think many of us share this experience: sometimes when I buy things for my boys, I’m not just buying for them. I’m buying for the kid I used to be, the one who wanted things desperately but rarely got them. I’m healing something in myself by giving them the childhood I never had.
That Lego set? Yes, my 4-year-old wanted it. But part of me wanted it too, wanted to see his face light up, wanted to be the kind of parent who could say yes, wanted to give him that moment of pure joy I remembered craving as a child.
There’s nothing wrong with this, by the way. In fact, it’s beautiful. We’re breaking cycles, creating new traditions, showing our kids that their wants matter, that joy is worth investing in, that childhood should be full of “I’ve wanted this my whole life” moments.
The Art of Enthusiastic Living
My boys are masters of enthusiastic living. They get excited about finding the perfect stick, about seeing a dog across the street, about the fact that grapes exist and they get to eat them. They haven’t learned yet that enthusiasm is something to be embarrassed about.
Maybe that’s the real lesson here. Not that we need to maintain childlike wonder (though that’s nice too), but that we need to give ourselves permission to want things fully, to feel joy completely, to be enthusiastic about our lives without apology.
What Do You Want With Your Whole Life?
So I’m asking myself, and I’m asking you: What do you want with your whole life? Not the practical stuff, not the should-wants or the responsible-parent wants. What makes your heart race with the kind of anticipation that 4-year-old felt about his Lego set?
Maybe it’s a career change you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s a creative project gathering dust. Maybe it’s something as simple as taking a pottery class or learning to garden or finally reading that book series everyone’s been talking about.
Maybe it’s just giving yourself permission to feel excited about small things again. To be the mom who gets genuinely thrilled about trying a new coffee shop or finding the perfect playlist or watching a really good sunset.
The Ripple Effect of Joy
Here’s the thing about enthusiastic living: it’s contagious. When my boys see me genuinely excited about something, they learn that joy isn’t just for children. They learn that it’s okay to want things, to feel deeply, to be fully present in their own happiness.
When we model enthusiastic living, we’re not just being better parents, we’re being better humans. We’re showing our kids that growing up doesn’t mean giving up on wonder, that being an adult doesn’t require us to dim our light.
Finding Your Own Lego Set Moment
Maybe your version of “I’ve wanted this my whole life” doesn’t involve plastic building blocks. Maybe it’s finally booking that weekend away, starting that side project, or simply allowing yourself to be completely present for a moment of pure joy with your boys.
The point isn’t what brings you that feeling, it’s that you let yourself have it. That you stop apologizing for your enthusiasms, stop qualifying your joy, stop waiting for permission to want things with your whole life.
Because if a 4-year-old can teach us anything, it’s this: life is short, Lego sets are awesome, and sometimes the most profound wisdom comes from the smallest humans who still remember how to feel things fully.
So here’s to wanting things with our whole lives. Here’s to enthusiastic living, to unqualified joy, to the kind of happiness that doesn’t come with footnotes or disclaimers.
Here’s to learning from our kids that the best way to live might just be the way we lived before we learned not to.
Now excuse me while I go find something to want with my whole life.
The Balanced Mom
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