Two rabbits danced on a floor of sparkling snow under a big round moon. I was seven leaning on my mother’s yellow kitchen window sill and thought, “I should watch longer because I’ll never see a sight like this again,” so I watched the blue rabbits dance in a blue diamond world three more seconds and went back to the toys I’d played with a hundred times. I wondered the next day if they’d left my yard together so I went outside but too much snow had fallen during the night.
Yea, kids are curious because the world is new, but new is also uncomfortable. Within a year of the rabbits my goal was to grow up as fast as I could so I could quit learning and always be comfortable. Luckily my parents exemplified the joy for learning discomfort. The easier I made my life the more boring it became so I developed a longer attention span hoping to be like my parents who were always reading, making furniture, painting pictures or photographing, finding, grinding and polishing stones, making lost wax jewelry, taking geology classes, camping, gardening, and more.
My kids are also my example with Anna studying MMA. The more I study the bigger and therefore newer my world becomes. I’m probably more curious now than I ever have been before in all my life. All that time since the age of seven and I’ve wondered and been plagued by the rabbit dance. I wish I’d been an older six and watched until the rabbits stopped dancing. How long did they dance and how did it end? What did the rabbits do when they stopped? Did they hop off together or in different directions? How far did they hop to get home? Where did they live?
Sometimes the plague of not knowing can cause new thoughts also.  nancymauerman.com