I LIKE LITTLE CHILDREN

Despite my obvious senescence and grouchiness, I will confess that there is one group of people whom I actually like. Little kids. No, it's not their purity, innocence, and as-yet unrestrained imagination, or any of those saccharine qualities that people praise and worship.

It's their complete lack of filter.

They feel things.

Like the little girl who loudly exclaimed: "wah, ho sik ah!" (it's delicious!), the small boy who spent twenty minutes petting a dog because "it's so fluffy!", or the mutant troll who told me that my tobacco "stanky!".

Enthusiasm, kids, y'all still have your unrestrained enthusiasm. All of it unedited by any mature consideration of nuance.
Exclamation marks.


Yeah, that cream-filled pastry is indeed 'delicious', that dog is very nice and you're hogging all the petting time, dammit, and 'stank' is a matter of interpretation and education, for both of which you sadly lack the ability.


The little kid weeping the other day because he didn't want to visit his aunt was, probably, the most charming thing I had seen all week.
Piteous! Heartfelt! And so, so delightful.

I seldom have that reaction when adults cry.
It's always a much more serious despair.
Which makes me very uncomfortable.

When children are unhappy, a large part of it is the inability to frame things adequately; their vocabulary and grammar are not developed enough, they themselves consequently cannot understand the situation very well.

I have the words and the ability for that.

In a way it's a handicap.




And no, I damned well refuse to wear that singing bass party hat with which you are threatening me. It's undignified. Extremely.





==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================