Good, unrestrained, imaginative curiosity is probably the trait I cherish most in my small people. 

 

I love bugs in the bug catcher and escapee snails on the stairs. 

I love the little finger in the cocoa powder and the little hands which will only be satisfied playing the entire eighty-eight piano keys one after the other. donk. donk. donk. down the scales. 

I love 'indoor' curiosity. The kind that finds small people peering at the world map on the wall. Looking through books. Checking out bugs under magnification. 

 

 

And shells. And fingernails. 

And I love 'outdoor' curiosity.

The kind that leads children to dig into the ground and climb trees. 

I won't care if my children aren't amazing academically, or sparklingly social, or astoundingly commercially successful. These things aren't important to me. 

But I will feel like a failure as a mother if they have no sense of curiosity. 

And, er, if they can't cook a whisker.

And perhaps if they eat a lot of hamburgers.

You? What matters to you?

xxx