Remembering Our Own Childhood Gives Us Patience With Children

“I don’t like kids!”

I can’t remember how many times I’ve heard young childless people make this statement.

In a way, I get it. It’s hard for us as adults to view children positively.

Babies are cute, but they’re also nasty and need constant care.

Toddlers purposely annoy caregivers — and each other—and still need constant care.

When they finally get toilet-trained, kids learn to sass and lie.

I would argue that six to eleven are the least annoying years of childhood for adults who interact with children. Kids at this age develop great common sense, empathy, and curiosity.

But then they hit puberty.

This is followed by the teen years, and there’s no need to describe the rudeness and impulsiveness that these years bring to those “blessed” to be around them.

But the reason many find that they have so little patience with kids is that they’ve forgotten much of their own childhood. I don’t mean they’ve forgotten events that occurred when they were children; but rather, they’ve forgotten how they viewed the world when those events occurred.