What I’m about to tell you is true. You need to change and become like little children. If you don’t, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
— Jesus (Matthew 18:3)
Sitting on my desk is my kindergarten report card. It reads:
Curt has trouble following directions. I’m sure he could do better work if he would listen when I give out instructions.
Ouch.
But wait, it gets better! The reason I’ve kept it for more than fifty years. Mrs. Sweig finished with this line: He is a real happy child.
One time, I showed it to my boss. She read it, looked up, and laughed. “That’s what I’m saying!” she said.
Now, this isn’t to suggest I haven’t matured. I mean…maybe a little. But I’ve come to accept that I’ll probably always be a bit scattered in my thoughts. A little ADD. Sometimes I treat instructions more like suggestions. And honestly? I’m okay with that.
Because I’m a happy child.
When I look back at the goofball kid I once was, what stands out most is how I faced every single day—with expectation. I just assumed something good was going to happen. I didn’t need a reason. The day itself was enough. Joy was never scheduled. It just showed up.
A sunny day. Popcorn on Saturday night. A fresh pack of Bubble Yum. My friend Dave throwing rocks at my upstairs window in the middle of the night to get me outside. McDonalds, Big Gulps, Nervously dialing a girl’s number, losing my nerve and hanging up. My childhood wasn’t complicated—it was a daily quest for good things.
“All children are born artists,” Picasso said. “The problem is remaining an artist as we grow up.”
Amen.
Somewhere along the way, life chisels away at our happiness. We trade wonder for wisdom, playfulness for practicality.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
Maybe instead of the same old New Year’s resolutions—to lose weight, exercise more, eat healthier—it’s time to decide something else.
Maybe it’s time to decide to be happy.
Maybe it’s time to become more childlike.
I don’t mean ignoring responsibility or pretending life is easy. Clearly it’s not. I mean choosing—again and again—to notice what’s good. To meet the day with curiosity instead of dread. To live with so much joy that people want to be around you.
Create your moments.
Two days after Christmas, my kids asked, since we wouldn’t be together on New Year’s Eve, if we could have a fake New Year’s. So on December 27, we ate dinner, hung out, and at 7:30 p.m. sharp turned on a YouTube video of the ball dropping in Times Square.
3… 2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!
Simple joy. Manufactured on purpose.
In 2026, be the artist of your own life. Shape it the way you want. Because deep down, that wonder is still in there—waiting, maybe even screaming, for permission to come out. The only reason it feels behind you is because you left it there.
What are you afraid of? Nobody gives you a report card anymore. This is your life.
Become childlike. Jesus said you must.
Face every single day with expectation. Assume something good is going to happen. You don’t need a reason. The day itself is enough.
Joy doesn’t have to arrive on New Year’s Eve at midnight.
Sometimes it shows up on December 27 at 7:30 p.m.
Or whenever you decide.
