Last week was a nephew/baby/driving filled blur. My little sister, her friend Amanda, and I all drove to Iowa to visit my sister and her family for three days. My sister runs a daycare and there were kids everywhere. It was awesome.
Something about hanging out with my nephews (and the other children) was incredibly timeless. It was as if time contracted and expanded, looped between lifetimes before coming to a final state of statelessness. I had to slow down and get used to the fact that we were in Iowa for three days, while speeding up in other ways in order to keep up with the kids. My sisters and I reminisced about our childhoods while watching the kids live their own. One day, they, too, would look back on these days with the same nostalgia that we indulged in. Meanwhile, we watched and commented on things the kids did that we had once done.
It struck me that everything I had learned, everything I had experienced, would, for the most part, be experienced again. And so, everything that I had learned would be useless unless I managed to pass it on, in some form or another. There was so many important lessons to teach, I felt, and yet there was so little that was truly new. Each lifetime was like zooming in on a fractal pattern, going though the same patterns with slight variations.
That was a really long-winded way of saying the kids splashed in the mud and peed themselves. We went out to eat with Brad and then Bailey and Riley rode bikes in circles in Walmart.
<3 being an uncle