I sit alone at Panera Bread on a windy Saturday afternoon. I look up and notice a family of 3 sitting close to me, consisting of a mother and her two young boys. My headphones are in and I’m blasting music but the littlest boy looks over at me every ten seconds and mouths something. I just smile back. He is just so cute. I absolutely love young people.
They’re ignorant and innocent; they know relatively little but are entirely content as long as they have something yummy to eat and a toy to love.
I pull out an earbud and listen to the boy’s voice. The spontaneity astounds me; his voice could be extremely shy at some times, and loud and booming the next. His voice is too underdeveloped and high-pitched to be taken seriously.
I fall in love with kids so easily. It seems like their lives are a million times easier than mine, and that my life is a million times easier than an adult’s. I love thinking back to when I was as young as this boy, and about the things I could easily get upset about…
Kids can get upset about the smallest things, and are concerned with the strangest things.
I love how they look up to their parents as if they were Superman and Wonder Woman.
Their bodies are so small, and I love the way it takes five of their fingers to wrap around one of mine, and the way it takes them ten bites to finish what it could take me three.
I love the wide-eyed look that glazes over their eyes when they look around and try to take in a new environment. I love that the bright-eyed expression doesn’t need to be artificially created through makeup.
It’s sad that the possibility of them never being able to do anything bad eventually fades as they get less innocent and more experienced.
I love the way it’s utterly acceptable and totally adorable when they have food on their faces. I love looking at little kids in their puffy jackets in the winter, with their little feet and little hands.
I love how they start off with a clean slate, soft skin, and perfect vision. Their sense have not yet been impaired by late nights, loud music, and their posture hasn’t been destroyed by slouching in front of a computer screen.
I love the way they don’t really care what they wear, and ask questions in all seriousness that can bring tears of laughter to someone else’s eyes.
I love the way they aren’t ashamed of referring to their parents as “mommy” and “daddy”.
I love the way they stutter and repeat what they say and pronounce words wrong.
I love that they are too short to reach door handles and too young to get samples alone in Costco.
I love how they don’t have a reason to worry about what they eat.
I love little kids. They are so full of hope and possibilities.
At least, that’s the way I think kids should be.
I wish they were all like that.