Children are a gift. A blessing. A joy. And an enigma. Being made in the image of god, we create in our own image(s) to a large degree. They may or may not inherit our facial structure, or our ears(!), but the soon show that odd abilities run across generations, unexpected aptitudes emerge that we too had, and propensities not seen since grandpa's day have re-emerged unbidden. Moreover, they re-make us too; we re-learn things we once knew, rediscover the value of thing we'd disgarded as 'adults', they take us to places in their imaginations and exploration that we've become too big, or too dull to enter. They ask questions. They sharpen us up, then knock us down with obvservations above their yearrs. And for some of us men, they renew the ability to protect, to care, and to share; they make us generous with ourselves, our time, our stuff, our lives.
The plural of anecdote is not evidence.