The impenetrable fortress of bliss.

Kids are rambunctious.  My mom said that my older brother Kevin was the most "active" of her kids: talked a mile a minute and never sat still.  As far as I know, he was the only one of us who required a kiddie leash.  But all kids push buttons and boundaries with equal fervour.  They don't want to listen, they don't do as they're asked, they do the opposite of what you'd like, seemingly because at that moment, it doesn't please them to please you.  And if they get excited about something, then all caution goes to the wind and their ears just cease to function.  They are in a vacuum of their own bliss, with Mom-proof, impenetrable walls.  Good luck trying to get their attention.  So you can only imagine the excitement of my three-year-old self, when my brothers Kevin and Phillip and I got to sit on our friend's horse:   

From left: Keith, Mom, horse, me, Philip, Kevin and a dog.

Someone, I'm not sure who, took this photo and everyone on the horse was looking toward the camera.  Everyone except me, because I was most likely yelling for my mom to let go of the horse's bridle so I could get it to trot.  So my brother Philip, being a kid himself and understanding bliss fortresses, grabbed my wee head and cranked it toward the camera:

This has always been one of my favourite childhood photos, because it shows all of us, my Mom and us kids together.  But now that I have kids of my own, this photo has become even more precious.  To me, this photo epitomizes what it is to be a child: living for the moment, giving joy your full and unadulterated attention, and of course, looking out for your fellow bliss-seekers (thanks Phil, you always did look out for your little sis).