At this point, it's safe to assume any regular reader of my blog knows my passions: music, literature, film, words.
Yet as much as those passions juice me, none of them will reliably reduce me to rubble like young children. Context is irrelevant: I can be sitting in a diner, walking on the street, listening to people my age discussing their grandchildren. Whether young children are nearby, or being discussed, or an author is simply describing them, I'm enchanted, almost without exception.
Recently I had trouble composing myself as I watched a young woman carrying a toddler in one of those body harnesses that ensure the child is looking directly at the adult. I love those contraptions. As that carried child began giggling, I was instantly transported to a family vacation from over twenty five years ago - it was called a "Toddler Tromp". The earlier giggling I remembered from a quarter century ago belonged to three children - one being my daughter - as they were tossed around in a carriage attached to my bicycle as I traversed the gravel paths in Acadia National Park. I will never forget the squealing glee of those young children. It is one of my most treasured memories.
What happened the last time you found yourself enchanted by the magic of young children?