In the 3rd grade I wrote a book of poems. By “book” I mean collection of wide ruled, off brown with red and blue stripes papers my teacher Mrs. Harris laminated.

I felt like an author in that moment and swore that some day I would be a writer.

I then proceeded to take the ole “26 year path to getting another book published” path.

But, I stand by that moment, a long remembered experience of a little kid daring to do something.

Turns out my 8 year old McRae is daring to write out some thoughts too.

Recently she had to write an “I am” poem in her third grade class.

My wife texted me a photo of it and my first thought was, “I want to be like McRae.”


Look at what she worries about. Look at what she cries about. Look at what she says. Look at what she hopes for. Sure, she wrote that she touches ice cream but given her propensity to spill while eating ice cream, a trait inherited from her father, that’s actually pretty accurate too.

Kids dream. Adults don’t.

I dare you to be one of those rare exceptions. The adult that doesn’t leave joy in a toy box time forgot.

I dare you to rescue your sense of wonder.

I dare you to shake off the time someone told you, “grow up already.”

I dare you to say awesome.

And maybe, I even dare you to be like McRae.