I think children know something adults slowly forget.
They see magic where the rest of us see ordinary.
A cardboard box isn't a cardboard box.
It's a castle.
A pirate ship.
A spaceship headed for galaxies no one's discovered yet.
A stick isn't just a stick.
It's a wizard's staff.
A knight's sword.
A walking stick for a grand adventure through an enchanted forest.
And an open field...
An open field is never just an open field.
It's the perfect place to race the wind.
To roll down hills.
To chase butterflies.
To imagine you're outrunning dragons.
I've started noticing that living with so many children has changed the way I see the world.
I don't drive past an empty field anymore without wondering how much fun the kids would have running through it.
I notice the first cool breeze of autumn.
The smell after it rains.
The excitement over finding the perfect rock.
The tiny mushrooms growing after a storm.
The clouds that somehow look exactly like dinosaurs if you tilt your head just right.
Kids have a remarkable way of reminding us that wonder isn't something reserved for childhood.
It's something we practice.
Somewhere between paying bills, answering emails, folding laundry, and remembering who's supposed to be where, we slowly stop looking up.
We stop noticing.
We stop imagining.
We trade curiosity for convenience.
Wonder gets quieter.
But it never really leaves.
It just waits for someone to point at a cloud and ask,
"What do you think that looks like?"
Or to hand you a dandelion like it's the greatest treasure ever discovered.
Our family loves fantasy.
Not because we're trying to escape reality.
Because fantasy reminds us to look at reality differently.
To believe that ordinary places can hold extraordinary stories.
That courage often looks like ordinary people doing kind things.
That hope has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.
Maybe that's why I love watching our kids grow.
They constantly remind me to slow down long enough to notice the little things.
To laugh.
To explore.
To imagine.
Wonder isn't something we're born with and eventually lose.
It's a muscle.
The more we use it, the stronger it becomes.
So today...
Look at the clouds.
Pick up the interesting rock.
Take the longer path.
Run through the field if you get the chance.
Because the world is still full of wonder.
Sometimes we just need a child to remind us where to look.
Until next time, there's always another chair by the fire waiting for you.
— Cara
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