“The Island of Sodor is surrounded by beautiful blue sea. It has fields of green, and sandy, yellow beaches; there are rivers, streams, and lots of trees where birds sing; as well as windmills, a coal mine, docks where visitors arrive, and a profusion of railway lines...”
...that carry anthropomorphic, sentient train engines into sensational escapades which have thrilled locomotive enthusiasts and children of all ages since WWII.
Or that’s the story, anyway.
Our little Firebird was hooked from the first moment I showed him an old classic Thomas the Tank Engine episode, back when he was barely a few weeks old — not quite big enough to do much more than sleep in my lap for several hours a day, during that post-partum period when there wasn’t much more to my life than hanging out in bed for about that same timeframe. You might think he would have outgrown it by now, at almost three, but so far he hasn’t yet. These days, he’s happiest while playing with an audio backdrop that brings him enchanting anecdotes of Thomas and his friends.
If you asked Firebird, I’m sure he’d tell you Sodor is his happy place. Minion, an avid ferroequinologist in his own right, has mused if you worked in the railway industry, Sodor would be the best place to settle down, since it seems there, anything that could possibly go wrong is deemed the fault of animate engines with their own hare-brained, half-baked ideas about how to get things done, and there’s effectively zero accountability for their human operators, who mostly seem to just be along for the ride during all the shenanigans. I’ve noted, too, it must surely be one of the safest places in any mythical universe, as the most commonly re-uttered phrase among its many often regaled tales of adventure is, “Luckily, no one was hurt!”
Obviously, these are things children are clearly not supposed to be thinking about while taking in all the excitement. But parents who aim to maintain some discretion about the quality of materials absorbed by susceptible young minds have a responsibility to consider the effects of conditional programming from multiple angles. It wasn’t quite the same when we were growing up... back then, cartoons were mostly only available to us on Saturday mornings and afternoons between school and the dinner hour — just long enough to preoccupy latchkey kids with more complacent pastimes than burning the place down, I imagine — and parents didn’t mind that much, so long as everything was still in one piece by the time they got home from work.
Maybe our folks were more naïve — perhaps the whole world was, to some degree — but maybe in that era it was safer to trust, though. In our early days, on afternoons, we had Sesame Street, The Electric Company, Mister Rogers, and Schoolhouse Rock, to educate us about:
• the letter B
• the number 3
• the crayon factory
• the people in your neighborhood
• loving yourself and your neighbors
• the complexities of language
• significant moments in history
• the mechanics of government
...among others. And on Saturdays, we had the same Bugs Bunny our own families had cut their eyeteeth on — so there was simply no need for them to bother with paying any attention to all that kidstuff.
But Looney Tunes lead to Tiny Toons, giving way to the increasingly irreverent Animaniacs (from which we thankfully get Pinky and the Brain!), and “the depravity of MTV” opened the door for more outrageous offerings like Ren & Stimpy and Spongebob (both of which I’ve happily managed to successfully avoid), and before we knew it, we’d been a complicit party to the animated media revolution that introduced the world to The Simpsons. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t sacrifice growing up with those standards — which effectively represented the disenfranchisement of our generation — but I also want to think carefully about how much of that “X attitude” I’m willing to pass along at this impressionable stage of our son’s development, which is no small task... the sheer volume of options has jumped from 57 channels with nothing on, to thousands of networks, carriers, and streaming services, each with their own theme and agenda to be sorted through. On the one hand, I suppose it must feel empowering for many to acknowledge something out there for everyone, but on the other hand, not every flavor of ethos deserves a platform in my kid’s subconscious.
Thomas The Tank Engine, originally created by an Anglican reverend, was initially aired as a regular segment of a separate train themed children’s broadcast, which admittedly in the beginning included a handful of dodgy incidents not easily uncovered amongst the historical records accessible today, and with good riddance. True, some still argue against what they refer to as an oppressive, authoritarian nature to the show’s storylines, but researching into a handful of such opinions makes me wonder if those parents unrealistically expect their children to grow up in a fictional world that will provide for spending a lifetime merely finger painting and building toy models, or if they would oppose their kids cultivating the discipline required to get an education and hold down a job. At least a couple presented misplaced misgivings clouded by either such a profound mechanical ineptitude, or a such complete lack of historical reference and general cultural knowledge, I’m inclined to wonder if they ever actually watched the show, as it’s pretty apparent they’ve never seen a train, nor cracked a book on engineering, science, or technology.
But I was pleasantly surprised to find the concept devised by a clergyman over 75 years ago has eschewed overt and even discreet attempts at indoctrination. The core moral lessons it imparts instead focus on the general themes of valuing companionship, observing boundaries, forming a solid work ethic in the willingness to be a contributing member to the greater community, taking responsibility for one’s actions (assuming you’re a train, and not a human driver, that is! ;-) and accepting the consequences, the strength in numbers of friendship, the power of respect for others, the celebration of diversity, and the freedom of independent thought — exactly the kinds of messages I want our boy to soak up. So I’m totally okay with him geeking out over Thomas... but not everything popular on kid’s TV so easily meets with our approval.
A few are non-prejudicially precluded offhand for having no educational purpose or other redeeming qualities of value... like Peppa Pig, or Mighty Mike, for example; some say there’s nothing wrong with the occasional bit of useless silliness, and I wouldn’t disagree — he has Noddy and Duggee or Paddington* for that — but we try to seek out a healthy balance. (*In fact, he’s expressed such a preference for BBC productions he’s actually learning to speak some words with an English accent! XD) But there are others — even some generally accepted by today’s culture — that are boycott in our household on principal.
We are definitely not in the minority for our rejection of Caillou — which one writer referred to as the world’s most universally reviled children’s television character, the hatred for whom has sparked a veritable surfeit of social groups formed to bond over shared abhorrence. Yet, while I can certainly appreciate and respect anyone who expresses disapproval for a primary figure whose only language is whining without impunity or consequence to parents who are obviously not in the slightest based on actual humans with children, with his use of such phrases as “I can’t!,” “I won’t!,” “I hate it!” and “Go away!” invariably resulting in him getting his way, and whose opening theme alarmingly advises growing up is tough when you’ve “had enough” (!) — what surprises me most is seeing so many parents complaining about having to watch it with their kids.
Wait, what??? How is the toddler in control of viewing decisions? Anyone who believes either the parent or the child has to watch anything has clearly missed a childrearing memo somewhere. Apparently, multiple parent-teacher petitions have been put forth pleading with PBS to take this toxic waste off the air. I wouldn’t suggest this isn’t a pursuit worth exploring, but in the meantime, maybe a simpler route to managing access might simply be to turn it off, and don’t allow the child to consume such garbage.
PBS Kids falls into the category of having had more of a positive influence on kids in general than many other children’s media outlets, but as a publicly funded resource, this institution can’t be expected to fulfill every child’s early learning needs. Some of their catalog is over Firebird’s head; some isn’t to his taste. Sometimes, the programs make attempts at value added viewing, but occasionally miss the mark, and other times, they just get it wrong altogether.
Daniel Tiger, for example, is a spin-off from the original land of make-believe in Mister Roger’s neighborhood, and offers a fair intrinsic value in its own right, from showcasing formula-breaking gender positive examples, and a robust environment of social diversity, to effectively addressing real issues today’s growing children will face in their everyday routines — and I can’t fault that. But it seems to me the show’s underlying subtext is as much about teaching younger generations how to parent when their child has a meltdown. In this respect, Daniel can be a less obnoxious version of Caillou, in that, while he isn’t always whiny, he can easily lose his grip on self-control, and throw a minor temper tantrum anytime things don’t work out exactly the way he would have chosen, but, to the show’s credit — as well as where it diverges from the rampant unbridled infantile domestic terrorism of Caillou — Daniel’s family and the community around him always quickly step in to divert whatever petty crisis he’s growling over from manifesting into a major catastrophe, and to teach young Daniel a better way to respond to similar situations in the future.
Don’t misunderstand me, I know my boy is going to whine sometimes... that’s to be expected — it’s what growing babies do. Some days, it’s hard for a young burgeoning brain to navigate so many complex emotional reactions involved in the transition from infant to toddler to little boy. Some days, growing up is tough.
But that doesn’t mean I want him studying a peer role model who demonstrates that kind of behavior for him to emulate. Right now, if my son is whining, it’s because there’s something wrong that needs to be addressed — he’s tired, he’s hungry, he needs affection, etc.; it’s my job to sort out these issues and work through them. So if Daniel Tiger is going to be on, it will only be on those occasions when I have the time to sit down and watch it with Firebird, so as the orange puppet’s behavioral volatility rears its ugly head, I can immediately pull the plug with a quick flick of the remote and the decisive reaction of a safety guard tweeting ,“>FWEEP!< Everybody out of the pool!” — because, in short, I can’t trust Daniel Tiger to be alone with my son.
One show I consider an epic failure in available options is Pinkalicious, though it does seem to have something of a die-hard fan-base — I’m guessing primarily from among those who long for a reversion of society to an era when every woman was a housewife who wore heels and pearls and hoop skirts to bake and vacuum in while scrubbing her breadwinning husband’s happy home spotless with a song in her heart and a smile on her lips. While I may not right now have the responsibility of teaching a young girl to make her way through this life, I’m still as much if not more accountable for making sure my boy has healthy, realistic depictions to draw from for his perceptions on how to relate to this foreign creature that is the opposite gender from him. So, though Pinkalicious does have its worthwhile moments — Pink is sweet to her sibling, their family shares every meal together around the table, and the stories do try to convey worthwhile life lessons about community — its counter progressive undertones in the backwards stereotypical genderization of the primary characters (Pinkalicious and her little brother, Peterrific) are the reason my son is not permitted to see it.
The primary glaring flaws with this pastel-hued disaster include:
• Every single young female character is always wearing a dress and never anything but (which is not in the least true to life compared to the world of today).
• Every single character is portrayed with the same exact unrealistic body type — as rail thin as an anorexic stricken with consumption — which wholly negates the notion of body diversity in humans, and presents an implausible body image for everyone.
• Though there’s nothing specifically wrong with young girls (and even young boys!) having an interest in things and activities which have conventionally fallen into the spectrum most often previously perceived by social standards as “girlie” (I’ve actually got nothing against a person of any gender choosing to “own” any specific color, and I believe the sterotyping of associating colors with gender at all should be completely eradicated from all cultures), this premise takes this particular obsession to a level of extreme that becomes a hindrance to getting through everyday life... such as when Pink chose to bail on her commitment to her teammates in the middle of a soccer game because she was having a bad hair day.
• The titular persona, while good-natured, kind, creative and imaginative, is also acutely one-dimensional, as well as rather pushy and demanding, especially when it comes to insisting her friends follow along with her every whim and play her way by her rules.
• Pinkalicious lives so much in her own separate reality in which the rest of the cast are merely pawns whose sole function is to dote on their perfect pretty pink princess, one is forced to wonder if the entire world is merely the meandering fantasy of a neglected child trapped in a coma induced dream sequence.
• Affiliated available merchandising seems to have been massed produced in 1984 — separating girls and boys into categories of pink for Pinkalicious and blue and purple for Peterrific — in which suggested activities for the girls events are limited to:
— decorating necklaces, bracelets, barrettes, crowns, tutus and wands in pink beads, feathers, sequins, glitter, and pom poms
— baking and accentuating cupcakes with only pink versions of bubble gum, cotton candy, Jordan almonds, Red Hots, and Good and Plenty;
...but boys get to have the kind of good times that include:
— building towers;
— making jet packs;
— reading space and adventure books;
— playing with Legos, tinkertoys and play-doh;
— and pretending with adventure gear, such as goggles, helmets and tool belts...
...further promoting the notion that
• The backstory of the nickname handles assigned to these two — derived from common compliments — tells you everything you need to know about how the creators see the difference between the genders: Pink + delicious = Pinkalicious, whereas Peter + Terrific = Peterrific... so, boys get to be “terrific,” while girls are “delicious.” (WTAF???)
— Is that a reference to merely being eye candy? I don’t know, it doesn’t really make sense, and is surely not an appropriate way to describe any child. I just know it’s not equivalent, and the same kind of stepford *8_7#!&* that starts being imposed upon children from before they’re even brought into this world, between gender reveal parties, and toy sections being segregated, and T-shirts that declare one pretty, while the other is Superman! ...and it has got to stop — we cannot continue to perpetuate this misogynistic psychosis into every new future generation.
Pinkalicios realistically has the same influence on children of either gender as the 1990s talking Barbie that came out the year I graduated high school which informed kids of that era that girls think, “Math is hard!”
We should have moved past such stereotypes by way back then, but we absolutely ought to be beyond them by now. We can do better — and as for me and my house, we will.
One of the most seemingly innocuous vetoes on this list is Max and Ruby, which is so adorable it’s almost cavity inducing, and on its surface, it comes off as relatively harmless, at first. In fact, I’d actually let Firebird enjoy a handful of episodes over a few weeks before I finally had to put an end to it after recognizing the pattern of a recurring theme running through every narrative segment. It seems the character of Max more or less amounts to a pudgy baby bunny version of the tramp archetype made famous by Charlie Chaplin, whose bumbling, buffoonish antics somehow always accidentally allowed him to stumble into being the hero and saving the day — much to everyone’s surprise and delight.
While Max’s playful clowning capers are innocently sweet, and comically cute, and there’s nothing wrong with a kid learning it’s okay to screw up sometimes, what I don’t want Firebird to come away with after enough repetition in this vein, is the idea that screwing up will always work out for the greater good in the end, because that’s a fantasy fairytale it’s best if he never believes in the first place, only to have to become painfully disillusioned about later. In the real world, we can recognize and appreciate that mistakes are going to happen and we’re going to love each other through them anyway, but that doesn’t change the reality that sometimes, mistakes can hurt, and may even cause real world problems that might lead to serious consequences which could require serious solutions. And although I’m not trying to burden my 3-yo with that much of a heavy weight on his heart right now, it’s best if when he starts to learn those kinds of tough lessons down the road sometime, he hasn’t already spent so much of his life with his head so high up in the clouds that coming back down to earth will be unnecessarily traumatic.
The worst of the worst, though, by far, among those commonly raved over in many homes, is Paw Patrol......... I mean, let’s set aside for a moment that there is absolutely nothing about the entire premise that makes even the slightest logical sense — so badly it hurts the brain — because, well, some things just have to be overlooked to entertain children who live for a while in a magical world of illusion and silliness; and, let’s ignore the fact that the show never offers even the least morsel of a life lesson or teaching moral to any storyline, for the sake of argument that it’s only for entertainment. Even so, this trash heap is still riddled with crimes against childhood, but, in the interest of brevity, I’ll only address the nastiest derelictions here. To start, there’s gender inequity in this selection, too, but that only scratches the surface of its troubles.
Of the 6 primary dog characters, only one* of them is female, she is a significantly smaller “toy” class breed, hyper cheery, overly emotional, full of questions and self-doubt, and dresses and acts in the outdated-by-decades commonly perceived standard of a traditionally feminine way, thereby sending the message that if girls are going to be permitted to “run with the big dogs,” they should expect to be required to do so in a “girlie” manner in order to be accepted. (*Yes, a couple other female characters were introduced in later seasons after the backlash, but they’re not regulars, they’re not considered part of the “A” team, and they don’t stay in the same location as the main group.) So, effectively, this cartoon is the dog version of the Village People, where, for the most part, only males can be standard community rescue workers — I guess there were no animal behaviorists on this drawing boardroom’s writing committee to inform them: in the dog kingdom, it’s actually the females who are smarter and more easily trained. :-/
But the biggest issue with this general offense to humanity in children’s works, is the distressing representation for people of color, which would be almost non-existent, except for where it’s pretty much blackface. There’s only one member of any cultural minority — a character of non-specific ethnicity with a generically melanin-infused caramel-toned complexion and non-descript facial features (voiced by a white actor, btw) — who is both female, and has agreeably risen to the illustrious rank of mayor... over a creepy almost ghost town in which every adult is an inept imbecile completely dependent on a 12-yr-old with a pack of dogs for their basic civic services. As if to counteract those attributes, though, she is only ever displayed as a blithering idiot who carries a chicken in a purse as an emotional support pet, who plays the washtub bass in her spare time, who doesn’t know her *@$$* from a hole in the ground and couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag with a road map and a flashlight, and whose blustering incompetence regularly exhausts the entire resources of the town’s (canine) rescue team (you may recall, I did mention none of this makes sense, right?).
Putting a person of color in a position of power might be a positive example for young people, if it wasn’t completely undermined by the mayor’s overwhelming and excruciatingly inadequate, all-encompassing defects, which wholly transform her into no more than a laughingstock, and the brunt of most of the jokes, often resulting from her own awkward, blundering bungling, and mismanagement of every situation. This is not a person whose actions garnish reverence or even respect. I couldn’t tell you if the purpose of rendering her in this manner is to teach children it’s okay to laugh at and disrespect women, people of color, adults in general, or authority figures, but I find all of those options disgracefully unacceptable.
A good friend I worked with at the contract before last — whose toddler is in the same age category as Firebird — invited our family to her son’s Paw Patrol themed birthday party, and upon her attempts to commiserate with me as a parent she naturally assumed would also have been compelled to watch this inane drivel on a regular basis, I disclosed our son is not permitted to see it, and doesn’t miss it; at her inquiry, I revealed my major issues with it. She found my perspective interesting, if perhaps not as relatable (she and her family are all of white, Anglo-Saxon descent), though it didn’t change anything about her son’s viewing habits (but, to be fair, he was already deeply entrenched in the toddler subculture of the franchise — hook line, and sinker — and I suspect it would have been a harrowing ordeal to have attempted to pull him out by that point). My friend has since confided in me, though, that ever since I pointed out the many problematic concerns of this irrationally popular program, she hasn’t been able to “unsee” it.
I am quite fond of this friend, and I know her to be a kind-hearted, loving, gentle spirit who appreciates the good in all people, regardless of their background. Racist ideology has never held so much as a synapse of thought in her cerebral cortex. And yet, I can’t help feeling saddened to be reminded again how often it takes a person of color to expose to the privileged majority when people of color are being marginalized — even when it’s out in the open, clear as day, right in front of them, as plain as the noses on their faces.
SEPARATE, NOT EQUAL
There’s a harsh reality most white people still have yet to face, and until they do so en masse, nothing is ever going to get any better for anyone else. And that is, racism is NOT *our* problem. Racism was created as a means to divide people, to classify human superiority by skin tone, and continues to be maintained by the lighter classes against those who are darker, despite every effort of civil rights leaders, social justice warriors, and disturbed tongue cluckers, who shake their heads at the unfairness of it all, before closing out the news, and going back to their regularly scheduled lives.
People of color can do nothing to “fix” racism — especially not so long as the only tragedy of this parasite on civilization even worth clocking for most non-minorities is when white folks continue to carry a license to kill unarmed people of color in broad daylight. Yet, while there are a hundreds of micro-aggressions and outright acts of hostility leading up to examples as extreme as that, even that sort of happening has become so unextraordinary it no longer always make the front page or the top 10 minutes. So long as this remains our socially accepted standard of “normal,” things can only get worse from here.
The biggest hindrance, though, to there ever coming a day when a majority of white people will stand together as one, and collectively say, “This ENDS. HERE, and NOW,” is the deeply ingrained belief held by so many that THEY can’t possibly be part of the problem, because they’re not racist — a bitterly defended core value so strongly clung to by some, they will defer, deflect, and argue against all evidence to the contrary, even if doing so costs them valued relationships with friends and associates. The thing is, you don’t have to be racist to have benefitted throughout your life — and to continue to benefit from — the institutionalized, systemic structure of racism that propagates the further oppression of the already disadvantaged, while giving a leg up to those who fall into categories deemed “desirable.” Really, all you have to be is white and breathing.
A CHALLENGE TO OVERCOME
One of the most common defenses offered by the type of white folks who believe racism is not their problem, is the vain and vapid declaration, “I don’t see color!” White people who say this have deluded themselves into believing when they offer up such a statement, they’re telling us they don’t treat anyone in their world any differently than anyone else, regardless of what color everyone is. But what people who use this bruised ego excuse are really saying to us is, they consistently fail to discern — or even deliberately choose to ignore — the commonplace struggles minorities must face every day.
I understand those who make the claim they “don’t see color,” believe racism has nothing to do with them, but that simply isn’t a possibility in the real world — there is no one who is not impacted by racism, and to believe otherwise is the purest example of privilege. To them, I would propose: if you’re serious about not feeding into the machine of racism, the only way to live that truth is to start with the face in the mirror — and be willing to “take a look at yourself and make a change.” Stop overlooking those who remain invisible to your world... step outside your bubble — that cushion of comfort bestowed upon you by the advantage of your skin — a birthright you did nothing to earn.
START seeing color. Start seeking out diversity. Start looking for the beauty in the differences between us — and, once you’ve found it, start noticing when it’s missing from the homogenous feedback loop with which you surround yourself in your everyday routines from the safety of the privilege racism has granted you.
Even further, start recognizing when people of color are being sidelined, downgraded, disregarded, disproportionately or improperly represented. Then, if you have aspirations of doing something that matters to make a difference, don’t look the other way just because it doesn’t affect you... make a U-turn, take a stand, and take action — call it out, call it off. You have choices — you can choose not to participate in events and activities or benefit from things that have a negative impact on people, even if those people don’t look or act or think or believe or live the way you do.
And be ready to pay the cost, because while the compounded consequences of collective inaction have long term sway over circumstances for people of color in the real world, doing nothing likely won’t directly impact your life in any perceptible manner — but taking action might. Taking action will result in uncomfortable conversations; it could result in the loss of valued relationships with friends and associates; it will surely result in the revelation of hard truths about yourself that may be difficult to swallow. And then you might feel an exponentially miniscule inkling of a drop in the bucket compared to the everyday persecution people of color experience just trying to exist as a minority.
I know it may seem like a stretch to go from children’s programs our son can’t watch to the darkness of organized racism and the heartbreak of the worst cases often resulting from that bleak institution, but the line between the two really isn’t as far as you might think. Demonstrating “otherism” to children — especially in a visual manner, particularly presented in a neat, tidy, shiny happy package that makes it all not just okay, but actually fun — teaches them to disrespect those who are different from them. Disrespect leads to personal distancing, distancing leads to fear, fear leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering and despair — in less time than most folks would even be inclined to predict, because “othering” from your home becomes “othering” on the playground, and that’s where it starts... the Nazis understood that only too well.
Before too long, your child lives in a world of “us” vs. “them” that will have a far-reaching influence over his choices in life, so you will have to decide right now whether you’re okay with that, else you might miss out on the opportunity to change that trajectory until it’s too late. We try to raise our children with an assurance there are no monsters hiding in their closet or under their beds. So why should we undo that progress by simply replacing the image of their monster with the face of someone whose skin is darker than theirs?
There’s a term for not seeing color... it’s “colorblindness” — which is actually a defect that prevents one from seeing properly. To do that, one must first correct their vision. When you shine a beacon into the darkness, the light can be blinding at first, but the more closely you look, though, the sooner your eyes will adjust to seeing the real world for what it is, and the more effectively you can be a part of making it a better place.
A MESSAGE OF HOPE
Firebird loves music... a side effect of his Mama always singing to him — since he was in the womb, to put him to bed, to calm his fears, to amuse him. He croons, he hums, he dances, and he’s naturally drawn to anything that lets him take in more merry musical sounds. During the day, most of the time when any TV show is on, it’s just a low rumbling in the background of his playtime, while he entertains himself with his toys, but a song and dance number will immediately stop him in his tracks and capture his full attention.
So it’s fortunate for us the colossal collection of classic tunes from Thomas the Tank Engine are mostly comprised of catchy little memorable ditties that worm their way into your brain and take hold, because the messages most any of them carry are designed to inspire children with noble ethics and constructive worldly wisdom. His very favorite among them comes from the Big World, Big Adventures series — all I have to do is cue up the link to the movie, and by the time the first tones of opening credits ring out, he begins to sing the song, giggling, spinning in a circle with a little shimmy and butt wiggle — it’s all I can do (while trying not to laugh! ;-) to get him to wait through the rest of the story leading up to it. In the story, Thomas the Tank Engine sets out to see the world... to ride the rails, to take in the sights, to encounter the people, to learn the customs, to experience the culture — to dig in, get dirty, and be put to work being really useful — for anyone who might need his help in a foreign land... I don’t think I could have imagined a more cherished ideal for my sweet beautiful baby boy to have latched onto than that.
Si lazima dunia kupita wewe na... Don’t let the world pass you by.
The great big wide world is a journey filled with adventure waiting around every corner — but it’s also full of bright, beautiful color, worthy of exploring... if only we can learn to see it, and fall in love with its breathtaking beauty. The fact that my not quite 3-yr-old baby is most charmed to find his world abundant with colorfully diverse faces and places and sounds, makes Mama’s brimming proud heart feel like bursting with song. I hope this is only the beginning of his love for culture... I hope I will be equal to the task of nurturing his joy... I hope he will learn to share the wonder... and I hope, someday, he will come to know a world that will treasure the beauty of color as much as he does.
BIG WORLD OF WONDER
Let’s go... let’s dream... come along with me...
The big world is calling... all aboard for a fantasy...
The world’s full of wonder... There’s so much we can be,
Thanks to imagination and curiosity.
LJ Idol | Season 11 • Week 22 - Topic: HIRAETH
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