The spirits of little children are so happy when you become their mirrors
They have nothing to be afraid of.
When I was a baby
I used to be scared that people in the mirror would see me as I put on underwear
It’s a real fear
Sometimes it never leaves, I think.
I love children because with them it’s easy
They don’t have nearly the menagerie of spare heads to screw onto their shoulders
They can’t morph into classy, crappy, and lazy in the blink of the eye
Children are so new
They are beautiful in a way that should be preserved
Taught to grow
Not grow “properly”
Because if it manages to grow these days
Then that should really be enough, over the course of a life.
Grow in the simple that makes them beautiful
Why do you think baby hand prints in plaster are so stunning?
It’s like a fragment of your destiny cast into clay and hung on your Christmas tree by a blue ribbon
You are loved.
I trust children more than anyone else
Because they have such less reason to lie to me than anyone
Why would I be afraid, with those odds?
Why would I ever be afraid?
The more I go down this rabbit hole,
I am happier for the children in my life
They remind me who I am
And it is nice to keep it that small.