The Inner Child

I've recently spent a lot of time thinking about my kids (aged 21 and 24) and how their lives are working out and where they're going.  It occurred to me that their characters were set very early on - in fact, I can trace their defining characteristics back to the day they were born.  As a new parent you wonder how your kids are going to turn out, what they are going to be like as adults, and it's impossible to project forward and see their future.  But looking back, it all seems obvious - there's a seamless thread running from Day 1, through babyhood, the toddler stage, early school years, puberty, teenage angst, to young adulthood and whatever lies beyond.  At the moment, they are both wrestling with big life decisions about work, education, relationships (both with partners and with family), where and how to live - problems we all struggled with at the same age.  I know I can't tell them what to do and how to live their lives (even if I thought I knew), it's something they have to work through for themselves, as we all do.  Corny as it sounds, I just want them to be happy.  
Ah, but there's the rub - do they know what makes them happy?

I began to think about what we are like as children.  There's an optimum age, probably somewhere between 4 and 8 years old, when we are old enough that our characters are fully formed and we've learnt to express ourselves, albeit simply (although that's probably always the best way), but we are not yet old enough to have taken on the social mores of adults.  The person we are at that age is the person we will always be inside, however deeply buried.  I suspect that our degree of happiness as an adult is dictated by how true we remain to that inner child in our daily lives.  Writing this now, I realise it reads as very cliched - The Inner Child is a phrase much bandied about by psychoanalysts, artists, and even the media.  Maybe it's only just now that I really understand what it means. 

When I look at my kids, I can see their inner child.  I remember vividly what they were like at 5 or 6 years old.  It seems obvious to me what made them happy then and what is likely to make their adult selves happy now.  But I can't tell them, I can only watch and hope that they work it out for themselves.

Meanwhile, I'm struggling to remember what I was like as a child.  There must have been more than just fear of the world.  There must have been something that made me happy.

When I've remembered what it is, I'll let you know.