My grandson was taking laps in their backyard, pretending he was racing on his bike when we heard the distinct music of an ice cream truck. With wide eyes, he shrieked, "Ice cream! Let's go, Lovey!" When the truck pulled up in front of their house, he jumped up and down while looking at his choices, then switched to a dance once he decided on Minions.

I just got back from visiting my family for my grandson's fifth birthday, and being around him and his incredible zest for life always fills my soul. He runs toward wherever he's going like he can't wait to get there. He gets genuinely excited about the smallest things. When he opens a gift, there's a burst of elation in his reaction. He laughs at his baby sister and finds so much amusement in simply watching her do baby things. He’s everyone’s biggest hype man too, cheering people on and getting enthusiastic about whatever they’re doing. He isn't happy every single second, of course. But joy seems to be his default way of meeting the world.

Growing up asks a lot of us, but it doesn't ask us to stop loving the little things in life.

Somewhere Along the Way

Children seem to give themselves permission to express things all the way. Excitement is excitement. Happiness is happiness. There’s no need to tone it down, make it look cool, or decide whether the moment is important enough to deserve a reaction.

Then we grow up.

We start measuring our emotions. We get busier and more tired. More self-conscious. More responsible. More focused on what needs to happen next. The little things that once felt exciting become ordinary because we’ve been there, done that.

And without meaning to, some of our exclamation points become periods.

A present.
We’re going somewhere.
Ice cream.

Not because those things stopped being good, but because we got used to moving through life with one eye already on the next obligation.

Responsibility Isn't the Villain

I want to be clear, this isn't a piece about how children have life figured out and the rest of us ruined it somewhere along our journey. Adulthood brings things that can be hard. Bills. Aging parents. Jobs that drain more than they give some weeks. Decisions that carry weight a five-year-old has never experienced.

Responsibility isn't the problem. What I've noticed is how easily the good parts of life can be pushed out while we're busy managing it. We become so used to carrying everything that we forget there's a difference between carrying life and living it.

Delight Isn't Childish

I'm not suggesting we need to become five again or pretend the hard stuff isn't hard. You can go through something heavy and still laugh loudly at something dumb. You can have a lot on your plate and still get ridiculously happy about dessert. Maturity doesn't require you to wear emotional beige.

Being easily delighted doesn't mean naive. It doesn't mean oblivious to what's going on. It means it doesn't take much for joy to get through.

My grandson isn't teaching me how to be five again. He's reminding me of something I knew at five and somehow made less space for as I got older.

Return the Exclamation Points

So how do we get more exclamation points back into our lives? We let ourselves enjoy the little things again. Somewhere today, there's probably a period that could use an exclamation point.

Maybe it's dinner with someone you love. Maybe it's a song that makes you want to dance in the kitchen. Maybe it's something as small as knowing what's for dinner Friday night.

You don't have to manufacture excitement. You have to stop talking yourself out of it when it shows up.

I keep thinking about the way my grandson runs toward whatever comes next, excited simply because something is happening. He isn’t waiting for some big moment to make life feel special. The little things are enough.

That's the whole invitation. Not to become five again, but to make more space for the part of you that still knows how to be delighted by being alive.