Through The Eyes Of A Child

Growing up, I always pictured my “hero” would be someone older, and distinguished looking, with grey hair and a slew of lifetime accomplishments under their belt. Someone like Maya Angelou,




or Morgan Freeman….



or Angela Lansbury.



Don’t hate. Murder She Wrote was the CSI of the 80′s, ya’ll.

I never knew that a child, or should I say two children, would be the people who would give me the perspective I need to see the world as it truly is: full of possibility.

I mean once you get past the eyerolling, the sighs, the dirty laundry, the smelly shoes, and the conversations you have that they ignore while texting LOL, LMAO, and OMG to their friends, my kids are pretty cool.

And they teach me to be present. And in the moment. Even if they are assholes teenagers.

I mean, who isn’t inspired towards greatness after seeing this:



And you can’t help but to forget everything and just smile at this:



Those are my heros. Those are the little people I figuratively look up to. They are my joy, my pain, my pride, my mentors, my view of a world I never knew existed.

And, even if they never cure cancer or win a Super Bowl, they will always be my one true contribution to this crazy, screwed up world. I will always know I made this life just a little bit better by making them a part of it.