there's something magical about being a little kid. it's the magic that makes you, a four year old girl with a head full of blond curls that could put shirley temple to shame, play dress up, wearing a silver box on your head after everyone has opened the presents. donning a piece of wrapping paper as a cape, you run around a room full of chatting adults, making robot noises trying to get their attention. and it is the same thing that makes you, a ten year old boy, covet an electric wine cooler at a white elephant party, imagining all the things you could buy with the twenty dollars you will earn when you sell the thing on craigslist. yes, in the same thing that's useless to everyone else, you see unmet potential. being young, its the magic that will satiate you, as a towheaded one year old, when you're set down in an appliance box full of ribbon and tissue paper. corralled in that box, away from distractions, you can play for hours.
oh, to be a kid again.