Try Again

A couple of days ago, I was babysitting my grandson who recently turned two. We were in my living room cleaning up a game that includes small bells. The bells go into a taco-like pouch that zips up to contain them. My grandson is at the age where he loves to help and imitates everything we do and say. His vocabulary and capabilities are multiplying and impressive for one so young.

Before they made it into the pouch, a few of the colorful metal bells slipped out from his tiny fist and tinkled onto the floor.

“Uh oh, try again,” he said. Then he squatted right down to pick up the bells.

This time he successfully stuck them into the small opening of the pouch I held.

The automatic simplicity and clarity of his “try again” surprised me. Sometimes his words sound more like approximations, but this time there was no doubt what he said. It was also clear that he knew what the words mean. He dropped the bells. He could bend right down to pick them up and try again.

Those words felt profound. I want to remember to tell myself, “Try again.”