I Would Be a Child Again

If given the chance, I would be a child again—not to escape the responsibilities of adulthood, but to rediscover the pure joy of seeing the world with wonder. Childhood is a magical time, filled with curiosity, laughter, and an unshakable belief that anything is possible. In those early years, life moves more slowly, every day is a new adventure, and happiness is found in the simplest of things.





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As a child, I didn’t worry about deadlines, bills, or the expectations of society. My biggest concern was whether I could stay out a little longer to play or if I had to finish my homework before my favorite cartoon started. The world was vast and full of mystery, and I approached it with wide eyes and an open heart.





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I would be a child again to feel the thrill of climbing a tree, running barefoot through the grass, or watching clouds float by as I imagined their shapes turning into dragons, castles, and faraway lands. Back then, imagination wasn’t just encouraged—it was the center of life. I could turn a cardboard box into a spaceship or a blanket into a superhero cape.

To be a child again is to remember how to live in the moment. Children don’t dwell on the past or stress over the future. They laugh when they’re happy, cry when they’re sad, and move on with a resilience many adults forget how to use. They love freely and forgive easily. I envy that simplicity.





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Of course, childhood isn’t perfect. There are lessons to learn, boundaries to test, and emotions to navigate. But even those challenges come with guidance, with people to lean on and fewer expectations to carry. In a world that grows more complex each day, childhood feels like a safe harbor—a place where innocence reigns and hope is unshaken.

If I could be a child again, I wouldn’t waste a moment. I’d savor the small joys, ask more questions, and hold tighter to the people I love. Most of all, I would remind myself not to grow up too fast.

Six-year-old Maya had a wild imagination and a curious spirit. Every afternoon, once school was done and her snack was eaten, she would head straight for the backyard—a place she called "The Great Wild."

To others, it was just a yard with a few trees, a garden, and a small pond. But to Maya, it was a vast jungle full of mysterious creatures, hidden treasures, and secret paths.

One sunny day, Maya wore her explorer's hat (actually her dad's old baseball cap), grabbed her trusty flashlight, and set off on a new adventure. Today, she was searching for the Golden Feather—a magical item she read about in one of her books.

She crawled under bushes, peeked behind flowerpots, and even climbed the tree she called “Mount Leafy.” Just as she was about to give up, something shiny caught her eye near the pond. She rushed over and found a yellow bird feather, glittering in the sunlight.

With wide eyes and a grin stretching ear to ear, Maya picked it up carefully and whispered, “The Golden Feather.”

She danced around the yard, waving her treasure, already planning her next quest.

From that day on, Maya kept the feather in a little box by her bed, a reminder that adventure could be found anywhere—as long as you believed in it.

In a cozy little town, there lived a boy named Arjun who loved to smile. He smiled when the sun rose, when birds chirped, and even when the rain tapped gently on the roof. People often asked him, “Why are you always so happy?”

Arjun would just grin and say, “Because there’s always something good around us. We just have to notice it.”

One day, his teacher gave the class a special assignment: “Bring in something that makes you happy.”

Some children brought toys, some brought snacks, and one even brought a puppy picture. Arjun brought a small glass jar filled with tiny folded papers.

“This is my Smile Jar,” he explained. “Every time something makes me happy, I write it down and put it in here. Like when my sister shares her cookie, or when I see a rainbow.”

The class was amazed. The teacher read a few notes aloud:

“Grandma’s hug.”

“Helping a friend.”

“Mom’s bedtime story.”

Inspired by Arjun, everyone in class made their own smile jars. Soon, even the teacher had one on her desk.

From then on, whenever someone felt sad, they’d read a note from their jar—and smile.

Because happiness, Arjun taught them, isn't something we find far away. It’s hidden in little moments