What is it about small children? And by this, I don't mean those squalling brats that some incompetent parents release on the hapless teachers of the world at around age five. Rather, I mean the little kids, the ones who don't talk while their parents are pushing them around in strollers, but just stare at the world with wide eyes, a serious expression, and a completely open face. They know what you are. If you walk by them, frequently their eyes will follow you, especially if you make eye contact. And they have, bar none, the most exquisite eyes in the world... Untrammeled by the hardships of life, unmarked by the cynicism of love or betrayal or disappointment... They are truly open minded in the purest definition of the word, and it's a joyful experience just to witness it. Maybe it's because I love children, and seeing them reminds me of the good times that I've had with them. Or maybe it's because I'm amused at some level by the juxtaposition of their serious expressions and the relatively simplistic thoughts that I'm sure are going through their brains -- when that expression of concentration is on my face I'm either doing math or I'm constipated. Or maybe it's some inherent urge to protect the frail and innocent. Perhaps it's the feeling -- engendered by that look -- that for that brief instant, you're the only person in the world. Or maybe it's none of those, or all of them. But whatever it is, little kids brighten my day, make the grass greener and the sun warmer. It's a wonderful thing.