mr. happy

"On the other side of the world, where the sun shines hotter than here, and where the trees are a hundred feet tall, there is a country called Happyland."

So begins the third book in the Mr. Men and Little Miss series by Roger Hargreaves. And so begins the life of our second child... Mr. Happy.

Today, after a week away in Wisconsin, we needed to restock the fridge, so I took the guys to our favorite farm market for eggs and milk and veggies. Just inside the market door there was a chicken egg incubator and a plastic bin with a warming light that held about eight newly hatched chicks. These little day-old puff balls were cute enough to make a grown adult pause in her dull/worried/busy/overtired day and say, "awww." But the effect they had on Mr. Happy stopped us all in our tracks.

I held Elliott over the plastic bin to peek at the chicks and he sucked in his breath, opened his eyes wide, wide, and belly laughed. It is so hard to describe how lit up his face, how loud his squeals, how adorable his laugh. But the one other customer, the shop keeper and the big brother all stopped what they were doing and looked, and forgot themselves, and laughed, too. That's the thing about a real Mr. Happy. His joy is contagious.

In the book, Mr. Happy meets Mr. Miserable and coaxes him out of his misery so he can become happy, too. Such is our boy. When he smiles and laughs you can't help but join in. There is no chance of being miserable around Elliott. His joy makes him a joy.

Encountering the chicks turned our day around. As we walked back to the car, I prayed to be more like my boy. Every furry head a delight, every webbed foot a wonder, everything that moves and breathes a joy to behold. Some people may think Mr. Happy is naive or out of touch with reality or, even worse, a fake. But today, for a few precious seconds, I saw every trouble fall away, every wall come down, every struggle disappear. I saw the happiest boy in the world. And I wanted to be just like him.