A childs world:

A child runs toward something, focused entirely, as only a child can be. There is only one thing in his world, one goal, one objective, one destination. He trips, landing hard, face down in the dirt. Sitting up he is slightly dazed. He looks round. He notices his knee. At the sight of blood he starts bawling. It’s just a scraped knee. Like any kid he’s done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand times again. But that doesn’t slow the rush of sudden tears streaming down his dirty face.

He cries because he sees he’s been damaged, and that’s when we cry. We cry when we see blood, we cry when we see someone has wronged us, hurt us. Tears stream down dirty checks making a clear line in the grit. When we fall down we cry we scream we rage. But that’s ok, if we can get up again a minute later, just like every child dose.

.... His mother runs to him and gathers him in her arms, holds him close. When the anguished wails subside she checks the damage. Minutes later, after a slightly stingy clean up and a bandaid have been administered, he is up and off again, happiest child in the world.