They see more than we think.
Hear more than we say.
They fill in the blanks — quickly, quietly.
So we just offer raw material.
Designed for expression.
Unfinished — on purpose.
Because what we make
isn’t done —
until they make it theirs.
Even before they have the words, children read between the lines — the tones, the gestures, the pauses. Quietly absorbing everything.
From what they gather, they begin to express themselves. Not as copies. Not as echoes. But as something entirely their own.
That’s why we leave things open — flexible, adaptable, ready to be shaped. Not just in movement, but in meaning.
