A Series On Little People (pt. 1)

Today at school, my family and I decided to celebrate my four-year-old brother turning five-years-old (even though his actual date of birth is in June, which happens to be after the academic year is over but that’s besides the purpose of this post).

I really should be honest, because as I was making my way into his little classroom filled with little people and little things, I was rehearsing in my head what I was going to write in this post, which makes my thoughts a little contrived and less ‘naturally occurring’ as was meant to be with my babble blog. But after I returned home and filtered through these photos, I saw too many stories that I couldn’t have predicted beforehand.

I’ve decided to discuss only one of the stories I witnessed today along with my annoying thoughts and analyses on it — so I’ll be omitting the details about children crying for no reason, and teachers yelling for no reason, and kids singing “Who Took The Cookie From The Cookie Jar?” for probably apparent reason.

Because I’m a little unreasonably averse to attaching myself to anything mainstream, I feel that posting about my brother’s birthday for the sole purpose of showcasing how it was a birthday with singing and dancing and obnoxiously boisterous music is the epitome of that word. So, obviously I’ll be babbling about a different angle, one that will probably consist of psychological principles (surprise surprise) and how it affects daily life. Before I begin with any details, I want to share with you a truth I had known previously, but kind of allowed to flow over me unheeded mostly because I never considered its power till today. Usually the word power is associated with big people that have big voices and probably giant noses. But this truth, as simple as it is, tells a different story: anyone capable of being classified as a ‘child’ or below (and this classification is easily stipulated by places of reservation like restaurants or airlines) has the literal ability to control everything and everyone in the room. And I’m talking about everything ranging from actual existing people in a room to freaking cultural norms instilled in a society for centuries.

Here is why anything a little person does can surpass all dogmatic restrictions:


Isn’t this such an innocent photo? Don’t these children appear to prance from one cloud of purity to the next with their smiles that stretch over the entirety of their faces emanating only love and happiness? The answer is yes. Duh. But there’s another question you should be asking as you glare into the gaping mouths of enthrallment. How did these children get to this state? And what was done to provide them with this happiness? Anyone normal would talk about how everything excites little kids. I mean, come on, they think everything is cool. But I wouldn’t be writing a whole post about this if I were looking through the eyes of a normal person.

Let me explain to you the context of this picture. It was taken after the happy birthdays were sung and the cake was cut, which is usually the period of insufferable children running around with sugar highs. My mother had decided to light up one of those rocket type candles that she had forgotten and pierce it through whatever remainder piece of cake was left in the front of the classroom. But when the candle went off, so did the kids.

And that was the first signal. Hearing their laughter. I mean, who doesn’t want to hear children laughing? It’s absolutely beautiful listening to their squeals of excitement at a meaningless flame. But how do you suppose the adults in the room reacted to this level of joy? It’s blatant that they would want to maintain its elevation — and one way to do that is to maintain the source of its arousal. That’s right, the futile flame. I kid you not, my mother lit up the entire packet of candles, which meant she actually took the trouble of lighting a match at least five or six times. If that’s not power, then I don’t know what is. I’m a fire scaredy-cat and I wouldn’t be able to get my mom to light me more than two candles a week. That’s a statistic.

That board with the welcome phrase is actually kid code. It doesn’t actually say Welcome to G. It says Welcome to Get on Your Knees and Make me Happy. It’s code, trust me. All kids understand it.


I guess the child in me has to admit, though — this rocket candle is practically the coolest invention for birthday parties.


The adorable kid in the oddly suitable pink party hit is my brother. I know this picture makes him look like this child prepared and determined to blow out his candle (on his batman cake that he made us solemnly swear to get him) once he hears “1, 2, 3!” and he was, but there’s also another side to the story. His personality is strange and not in a terrible way — but only in the sense that sometimes his lifespan development doesn’t follow my psychology textbook. And because I’m still a noob student that only acquires psychological knowledge from the class textbooks, his quirks make my assessment of him difficult — which is a hysterical relief for everyone that knows me as the irritating and pretty pretentious psychologist. Seriously, I take it too far sometimes.

But anyways, back to the heart of my freaking dissertation post. When my brother saw us entering his classroom, I noticed his face grow pale and almost boil with shock. Now, you can imagine why I would find this a little odd, since we all expected him to maybe be excited. Instead, he ran to us and whispered, “Please, can I go home with you guys?” So what do we do in response to this? Of course, we carried on with his party, but with special accommodations so he would still get what he wanted. It’s the child power, I tell you! He got a different (cooler) goody bag, two attempts at blowing his candle, the first slice of cake and the entire classroom yelling THANK YOU ISMAIL FOR THE GIFTS!


The dancing didn’t end. Now, my family and I don’t listen to music much and dancing is definitely out of the picture. But for this special occasion of course we adapted for the sake of these adorable smiles. I mean, look at them!


The birthday boy being all birthday boy-y. I don’t think anyone could get enough of that smile.


Now, don’t get me wrong, I love kids, and there is no doubt that my love for my brother makes me want all this great attention given to him — but it all just made me wonder about how tiny things can sometimes make big things happen.


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