Children don't always see things the way adults do. (No, really?) Take, for example, the stereotypical gift to a loved parent of a fistful of dandelions. Sunny delightful posies to the child, pernicious weeds to the adult, their saving grace being that they will rot so quickly. (The dilemma this can present to the parent involved - and its only humane resolution - has been dealt with very nicely in this post.) But children can and do mature in their perceptions. Young Thomas (three in August), happily squats in a field of dandelions, and chooses, with delicate precision, all those flowers which have gone to seed. He only wants the powderpuff dandelions, and, from his perspective, you can see the appeal: clean and white, ethereal - and they fly away when you blow on them! Flowers and entertainment in one sweaty fist! "I will give these to my mommy. She will yike dem." It's a twenty-five minute walk home, though, and dandelions are not the most hardy of plucked posies. We're not quite home when Thomas stops dead. Looking sadly at the withered, drooping, and now completely bald former dandelions in his hand, he declares, "My flowers are Dead. They are all squooshety. They won't make my mommy happy any more." With a sigh, he drops them on the grass. Poor little man! Discernment: what a wet blanket it can be!