Balloons with Breakfast: How to Set Yourself Up for a Bright, Sunshiny Day (Coffee Not Necessary!)

“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” ― Angela Schwindt

Children are funny. One minute they’re flinging their lovingly prepared supper onto the floor while simultaneously screeching and shoving small objects up their nostrils, and the next, they’re doing something so touching, so profound, that you have to stop dead in your tracks and observe them with the wonder of a zoologist who’s just spotted a snow leopard in the wild.

I had such an awestruck moment a few weeks ago when my two-year-old son, Isaiah, was about to have his breakfast. On his way to his highchair, he stopped, spun around, and did his adorable waddle/run down the hallway to his playroom. I sighed, expecting this to be an act of protest against so torturous a task as nourishing oneself, but a few seconds later, my frustration was replaced with curiosity as he reappeared in the hallway, clutching the ribbon of a bright red balloon in his chubby little fist.

“Do you want to bring that with you to your highchair?” I said.

He grinned broadly, hurrying back to his highchair. I tied the balloon onto the back of the chair, then watched his eyes sparkle with glee as it bobbed and swayed in the air above him. He proceeded to eat his breakfast with all the refinement and politeness as a mother can hope for in her toddler. Every other bite or so, he’d give the ribbon a strong tug and giggle as it came to life again.

So much joy from such a simple thing, I thought, marveling as Isaiah continued his game of bite, chew, tug, giggle.  

Later that day, during Isaiah’s nap, I thought about my own childhood mornings…how lovely they were, and how I took them for granted.

They began with my mom’s clear, honeyed voice half singing from the hallway, “Baby girl…Time to get up…”

The hall lights would flash on as I heard my mom push open my bedroom door. A few seconds later, I felt her fingernails softly scratch my back as she whispered, “Good morning, baby girl.” Those words were my cue to stand on the edge of my bed and climb onto her back, at which point she would act like a train and “choo-choo” us all the way to the kitchen where a hearty breakfast was waiting for me.

Her choo choo train affected me the same way Isaiah’s red balloon affected him. I laughed as he did, enjoying the silliness of my mother’s “chugga chugga chugga chugga choo-choo!” and the stiff, mechanical motions of her harms and legs and the bumpiness of the piggyback ride, which was more effective at waking me up than any alarm clock.

I cannot recall the last early-morning choo choo ride, but I’m sure it marked the beginning of the end of my leisurely, slow-motion mornings and my transition into the more frenetic stage of adolescence.

I would bet nearly all of us have experienced the equivalent of a red balloon at breakfast or a choo-choo ride first thing in the morning.

Maybe you used to insist that your favorite stuffed animal keep you company at the breakfast table.

Maybe your mom or dad sang you a special song to help you wake up and get moving.

Maybe you crawled into your parents’ bed to wake them up in the morning.

Maybe you had regular bright-and-early tickle fights with your siblings.

Whatever it was, I’m certain it’s something you look back on fondly, perhaps with a surreal sense of how fast the time has passed and the sobering realization that many of our former pleasures have been replaced by an accelerated, can’t-quite-catch-your-breath pace that doesn’t allow for red-balloon moments of laughter and light-heartedness.

 “A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.” ― Paulo Coelho

 We were never taught in school that whenever we reached a certain age, say eleven or twelve, we should then stop finding silly things to be happy about. And yet, so many of act as though that were the case. We don’t play with balloons for the heck of it, unless of course it’s for the amusement of our small children. Granted, balloons aren’t as mesmerizing to us as they are to my two-year-old, but my point is, we’ve sped up our lives so much that we zip through our days without stopping to play, to wonder, to sing, to seek pleasure in mundane places.

The moment our feet touch the ground in the morning, we’re like race horses bolting through the starting gate. We brush our teeth, fix our hair, get dressed, brew some coffee (or down an energy drink – no judgment!), wake up any kids, or spouses, who are still snoozing, then rush full steam ahead toward the first item on the day’s agenda.

What would happen if we added a little something playful, frivolous, or even self-indulgent in between waking up and getting started on the serious business of the day?

How might it affect our day if, say, we sang a song with our family, or played a quick, fun game over breakfast? (My family and I love Quiddler and Quirkle.)

What if we spent a minute or two outside, listening to the birds or watching the clouds change colors as the sun climbs higher into the sky?

What if we jotted down three things we’re thankful for, or named two people we could help or serve that day, outside of our families?

What if we played with our pets for a few minutes (a personal favorite a.m. and p.m. activity of mine) or took them on a brisk walk around the block?

What if we took a 10-minute shower or a bubble bath while enjoying an audiobook or podcast?

Some of those suggestions might require that we wake up a bit earlier, but from my experience, it’s absolutely worth it. Taking a few minutes to stop and smell the roses (you can do this literally, if you’re lucky enough to have roses around) reconnects us to our childlike selves, stirring within us an appreciation for the little things that make us smile, fill us with gratitude, supply us with natural pep and energy, and infuse an eager expectation into the early hours of our day.

I wholeheartedly believe that the more we aspire to let little delights grasp and hold our attention, the healthier and happier we, and those around us, will be. If, however, we wait until life “settles down” (as if it ever does!) to make room for the little things, we may very well look back to see that decades have zoomed by, and then mourn for the many balloons that disappeared into the clouds before we ever gave them a glance.

 “This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before.” – Maya Angelou