These little children who are so sweet and gentle: this little boy who kisses my hand as we pass in the hall, this girl who gathers in the wallflowers in her class to play, this girl who still curls on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. I don't want them to be fierce. I don't want them to have the "eye of the tiger". I don't want them to think of physical intimidation as a weapon, even a weapon of defense.

But they are fierce as they charge through the leaves. They are fierce in love and play. They are fierce and passionate about so much they do.

If I celebrate one ferocity, why not another?