Here in Winston-Salem one finds many traffic circles. Traffic circles were not so prevalent back in Dallas nor in other places I have lived, so they remain a novelty to me, notwithstanding two years of living here. I like them, even as I wonder why there are so many in this area.

And they really work. Case in point, leaving a service at a big church two weeks ago (one that blessedly is open), I figured the crowd of cars would take twenty minutes to filter out into the road. Lo and behold, the side exit of the parking lot opened onto a traffic circle. The cars dissipated like dandelion puffs blown by the wind. I was on my way in three minutes.

My little grandkids love to go around traffic circles. Sometimes they ask me to drive around more than once. To their credit, they don’t always voice the request. But every time they do, I am struck by the realization that, decades earlier, with our own kids, such a request would have fallen on deaf ears. “Are you kidding?” I would have responded. “We’re late.” “We’re almost at practice.” “There’s too much traffic.” Or, the biggest reason for no: “It’s pointless.”

Yes, it is pointless to drive a second time around a traffic circle (unless you missed your turn). But so what if it is pointless? At this period of my life, when my grandchildren ask something like this for the pure purpose of delight, I do it. Unless we truly are late or someone “rational and grownup” rides with us, I do it. Some days (like yesterday) I even drive around a third time, bringing peals of laughter.

Grandparents possess a simple truth: the irksome aspects of raising a child pass like those filaments of dandelion whisked by the wind. Far too soon, the little ones won’t want to drive twice around a traffic circle. Nor will they lick the icing bowl when we bake a cake. Nor will they compete to perform “knock-knock” jokes or lobby passionately for a third bedtime story.

All too quickly they will have realized  that spinning around a traffic circle is weird and could make them late; sufficient sweets circulate in their daily lives so that a spoonful of icing is not all that interesting; and, yes, they can read themselves to sleep quite nicely. For that matter, the idea of spending time with grandparents, while pleasant, will not necessarily compete with fingernail-polish parties, video games, or Six Flags.

Thus, if any of you asked me (not that you did) to proclaim my top bit of wisdom for this very day, here it is: find, and turn off, the “imperative” switch that regulates most of our modern lives. And relish the joy of your little ones while you can. Relish it fully as you drive around the traffic circle a second time.

Image by Raphael Schaller