"BUT NOW I WANT IT!"

Yesterday, as I shopped the clearance racks at Penneys, I heard a child crying in despair. Not an unusual occurrence in itself these days. But what caught my attention was the conversation I could pick out between the little girl's cries. Mom kept repeating in a calm voice, "You said you didn't want it, so I threw it away." To which her daughter would wail, "But now I want it. I WANT IT! PLEASE!" Mom was patient yet firm: "I'm sorry, honey. You acted like you didn't want it. Now it's too late. It's gone." More wailing.

I never heard the "it" described (I guessed lunch or a snack), but I could identify with the daughter's dismay. She desperately longed to reverse her mistake. But Mom was helping her learn a tough lesson in regret--that some decisions don't have an "undo" option. No relief, no rescue, no replacement--just the harsh reality that what's done is done.

Maybe because my son just turned 33, reminding me like a slap in the face of the speed of time, that mom-daughter interchange got me thinking about how I treat time. Every morning I wake up to another day's worth of minutes. Do I respond with appreciation and consume them carefully and conscientiously? Or do I squander them as if I don't care that they'll be tossed, unused, into the irretrievable past? At the end of my life, will I look back and wail "I WANT IT NOW" and beg for another chance, or will I be gratified that I treasured every precious moment and opportunity?

Who knew something positive could come from a kid throwing a fit in a department store? She and her mom will never know they reminded me to seize the moment, seize the opportunity, seize the day. And seize the ice cream cone before someone thinks you don't want it!