As we are trying to start a family, my mind has drifted towards some of the feelings I have when I encounter the little children of my friends and family. I think about how I loathe the prospect of having a house filled with baby toys... the sounds, songs, and mere appearance of these baby toys defeats me... and why must they? Did I have such toys when I was knee high to a knee? Perhaps, but I don't remember most of them. What do I remember? I remember when I was tiny, sitting on the floor with my dad, my feet to his feet, legs making a sort of an arena in which we simply rolled a ball back and forth to one another. For some reason, to my three year old baby brain, this was amazing! I loved it. As I remember, it felt like every evening we did this. And every evening, I loved it. Some of the other things I loved from my early childhood: flying kites, the kite seemed to reach the clouds! Playing with adult things. You name it... It was exciting to me... Keys. Clothes. Little