Kids’ Wishes Are Surprisingly Simple

Published June 28, 1990. Susan wasn’t feeling well a few nights ago and asked me to do something with the two younger children that evening. Everyone else living at home had something planned except Susan, Kris (age 9), Brandon (age 6), and me.

The time arrived for Dad to “do something” with the two younger kids, so Mom could get to bed early. I asked Kris and Brandon what they wanted to do with the stipulation they both had to agree on the activity. They went into the kitchen and began to negotiate in ways that only young children can. Finally, they came to me with the evening's agenda.

I envisioned it would be something like two hours at the mall, one hour at ShowBiz Pizza, a double feature movie, and end with a three-hour layover at McDonald’s. I braced myself for their plans. Do you know what my two youngest children finally decided?

They wanted (1) to go to BYU and ride the elevator in the Wilkison Center and (2) buy ice cream on the way home.

“That’s it?” I asked. “Elevator rides and ice cream?”

That was it. Elevator rides and ice cream.

Either I’m getting older, or life is becoming less complex. Perhaps both. But I have found it easier being a parent with the younger children. The key to family activities, I have finally learned, is doing what kids want to do. And what they want to do is extremely simple. Elevator rides and ice cream are prime examples.

We arrived at BYU campus and started the first activities. One of my students, who was standing in the hallway, asked if I had some sort of preoccupation with elevator rides, since we went up and down several times. I said we didn’t know where to get off. In hindsight, it really wasn’t a lie.

With the elevator rides behind us, we were halfway through our evening and headed to the local Dairy Queen. They were having some sort of special, and half of Utah Valley seemed to be there. We placed our order for hot fudge sundaes and waited. And waited.

Standing in long lines waiting for ice cream is an experience in and of itself. But I learned something. Don’t watch the adults standing in line. They get grim and restless. Watch the children. They will stand almost motionless watching in eager anticipation as the ice cream is dished out with the wonderful array of gooey toppings.

We finally got our hot fudge sundaes and sat in a booth. The place was crowded, but Kris and Brandon didn’t seem to mind. Our ice cream was as good as everyone else’s appeared to be. We ate and enjoyed.

On the way home, Brandon made a startling announcement. My 6-year-old revealed his intended life’s occupation. “When I grow up I want to be an ice cream man.” He declared. Kris asked him why. “Because I want to make children happy,” was his simple answer. The smear of chocolate ice cream on his face said the rest.

Robert Fulghum, in his recent book “It Was on Fire When I Lay Down on It,” makes this interesting observation: "What counts in life is not what we do but how we think about ourselves while we are doing it."

And I agree. And what also counts in life is who we do it with. Brandon, I hope you do grow up to be an ice cream man. And maybe Kris can be an elevator operator. We will need people like that in the future—to help make children happy.