I think it was near the end of fourth grade when my child started incorporating some of the Disney-channelisms into his everyday language.
Everything remotely good that happened, whether it was a bowl of cereal or a three-point basket became “epic!”
On the other hand, if something didn’t quite work out – a stray dribble of ketchup from the bottle hit the dinner plate – that was “so much fail.”
It’s all normal, I know. Kids will pick up expressions from the playground, the classroom, YouTube, and that ilk. They try on different aspects of their personalities like hats, trying to see which ones feel the most comfortable.
Maybe it’s a generational thing, but an adjective like ‘epic’ doesn’t pair well with anything other than Homer’s Iliad. Maybe Star Wars. The noun that follows a word like epic truly needs to demonstrate heroic substance and weight. With all due respect to Kevin Durant, I question whether the most beautifully-executed three-point shots truly qualify as epic. Nor does a simple misstep along the way to the trash bin equal devastating failure.
For a while, I thought maybe these expressions were a byproduct of the hormonal roller-coaster known as puberty. And honestly, at our house, this is probably exactly what it is – a temporary step in the process of our kiddo growing up.
But it seems like everywhere you look, daily events are hyperbolized into life-changers of one extreme or another. I laughed out loud this morning at an advertisement for a cereal that proclaimed This. Is. Everything. I had no idea honey-sweetened oats were so powerful.
On the one hand, I am a big fan of celebrating everyday joys. Doing a happy dance when I toss a wad of paper towels from the kitchen table to the trash bin *and make the basket.* My child and I singing at the top of our lungs in the car. Life’s too short to not celebrate whenever you can.
On the other hand, though, when everything is an extreme – either everything or nothing – we lose our ability to appreciate the vast majority of our lives that lie in between.
I think that’s a shame. All those in-between things, the everyday observations that would otherwise go unmentioned in the novel of my life, are the daily simplicities that sustain us. Because it’s in those little things, my husband’s smile, my child’s yawn, my dog’s snore, those are the things that show me how near God really is all the time. And that, my friends, that is what’s really ‘epic.’