pre·di·lec·tion & pen·chant

: an established preference for something

: a strong and continued inclination

I am not great at patience. Ok, not even halfway decent. Once I decide I want something, I can usually convince myself that I might as well have it now. Hence the current balance on my credit card. It is a good thing those who love me do not base it on my abilities to uphold the Dutch stereotype of frugality.

This want of virtue also comes out when I spend a good amount of time around small children. Now, I realize that after the admittance of my inability to truly appreciate dogs, I am running the risk of offending anyone who is not the Grinch by saying this...but bear with me, and I hope you will see I am not only still human, but even still female as well.

A dear friend of mine and mother of three tells me repeatedly that your response to children will be drastically different when they are your own, or at least connected to you in some way. I had thought that this was always sort of an excuse for not liking someone else's kids...well, not exactly not liking them, but not necessarily wanting to be around them everyday. Or more than ten minutes.

Let me clarify a little. Most kids are actually a lot of fun to begin with. The trouble comes when they get to that age when they realize they are smarter than you. That's just not fun anymore. Suddenly you find yourself talking in circles trying to defend why you get to have a glass of pop when they can only have milk or juice. Or, my recent favorite, they say something about how they are the boss and they get to tell you what to do, and you come back with an incredibly satisfying rebuttal like, "No, I'm the boss. And I don't need anyone to be my boss because I am an adult," and then they bring out their superhuman smartness and walk all over you with, "Uh-uh...God is the boss of you."

Is there nothing more humiliating than being out-witted by a six year old?

Well I am, at any moment, going to become an aunt to the most perfect baby ever created. (Seriously, I think I might even have trouble someday saying my own kids - if and when they come of course - could be more perfect given the incredible genetics going into this child). I have to admit, I had been a little nervous that I would have trouble getting as excited about this baby as everyone else seems to be. It really hit me today, though. I was doing a little Christmas shopping at Barnes and Noble, and after checking out all the things I wanted, (yes, I see the inconsistency in that) I wandered around the children's section. Now, as with any form of children's entertainment, some of the books make you want to punch yourself in the face. But there are some authors and illustrators who really give kids the credit they deserve. Some of them can even remind cynical, crabby adults like me what it is like to imagine and hope and dream and live in a world of wonder.

I have done an awful job lately of being in wonder. I have been caught up in hurt, guilt and blame. Since Jesus said the Kingdom belongs to children, I'm guessing it doesn't have a whole lot of room for my cynicism or crabbiness. Kids aren't usually like that.

I think this little niece or nephew of mine will help me understand wonder again. I am building up a bit of a penchant and predilection toward that tiny person already. Plus, I can't really wait to have some good excuses to reread some of the classics, (you know, The Wind in the Willows, Mary Poppins, Peter Pan, The Berenstein Bears...kidding...sort of) and to ingrain a certain predilection for good literature into a very new mind. That's the prerogative and fancy of every aunt, right?

So, welcome baby Feyen! You can come any time, you know. Seriously. Due dates are really just your first chance to rebel...