An easy one. Getting down at my girls' level and trying to see the world the way they do. This year, my oldest daughter brought me a dragonfly, perched on her finger. But she brought me more than that - she brought me that great note of excitement in her voice when she caught it, the spark in her eyes, that pleased smile. She brings me that all the time, how excited she gets about the things that most girls I know of do not - she gets me excited about them, too. The snakes, the lizards, the bugs, climbing trees, digging in the dirt, pretending to be an armadillo.
My youngest daughter inspires wonder every day, with her simple, sweet view on the world, the way she feels so acutely. Even when her eyes are welled with tears for the third time in an hour, and I am gritting my teeth in frustration at her emotional nature, I picture the inner workings of her soul as a ticking machine of the most delicate but sturdy parts, crystalline gears and shining cogs, gossamer strands of nerves accepting and processing everything. Once that tender machine has cranked out the tears, the switch flips to radiant, and oh, it is a thing of wonder.
They are both awesome sources of perpetual wonder.
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