At age two-and-a-half, he is 39 inches tall. Through his eyes, his small physical being is perpetually surrounded by an endless sea of legs, an endless assortment of wheels, both still and in motion, and the close proximity of ground, full of creepy crawlies.

All those legs - square, inert and wooden, round, restless and veiny, muscled, fleshy, shapely, hairy, shaved, brown, white, lobster-red-sunburned, freckled, panted, socked, stocking-clad, bare, scarred, disabled, juxtaposed with wheels -shiny, spoked, connected to cogs and gears, tarry, rotational, greasy and moving.

The ground insects and frogs are smaller than he, predestined to perform their daily living functions in the nature's endless cycle.

He is not at all interested in legs, but scrutinises the creatures with wonder even before verbal articulation came to the child, their industriousness so purposeful and mindlessly immune to his constant curiosity.

Poised on the brink of the greatest adventure on earth, his own life, "Let's run", he says and his little legs move determinedly forward to the next new thing.

He loves exuberantly; Mommy, Daddy, Gumpa, blankie, and the rest of us, in that order. In implicit unspoken trust, he knows that this love will be returned a hundred-fold.

Simplicity in living comes naturally to small children. All the glitter, thrill rides, monumental exhibits, and attention to minute detail at the amusement park is barely acknowledged. He exults in the kiddy splashing pool. To see, to feel, to experience is the real discovery.

"Let's do it again and again," he cries. "It is not Disney World," he says later with the total conviction of the young, "it is Mickey Mouse Land". So be it. Indeed the moments with him are more magical than the Kingdom itself.

He begins to understand his own power, testing, manipulating, sometimes pushing adult tolerance to the limit.

He is learning to accept the choices and consequences of his own actions. After one infraction too many, the source of pleasure is taken away, accompanied by howls and tears of protest. "Please, pick-up, pick-up!" he says. "Your behaviour is not acceptable today, you get to try again tomorrow," he is told.

What does a child know today but just the pure unadulterated joy in living? What do we teach a child, when we are reduced to his measure - that of just the endless mass of legs and multiple, moving mouths?

No where near as much it may seem as the fascination of moving cogs, gears, and wheels. We know that much of a child's exposure to learning is subliminal. Their minds are the greatest computerised digital retrievers in the universe. They absorb, digest, refine, and regurgitate everything, with amazing accuracy.

Measure a child's height at age two and a half they say, and double it; this child will be a tall man.

But, how do you measure a child's future character? Will he become rich in personal integrity, excellent in reputation, but not ever, ever classified, in the words of the ages by the author of succinct phrases, John Le Carre, "as a man with too many appetites?"

Along with, or in spite of, parents, a society has a mandate to care for its children - they are the DNA of its future representing the very survival of its culture.

A society, in good faith, may need to meet its children's basic physical and emotional needs until these children, too, reach the age of reason, and achieve full potential.

Rightfully, they will then take the present elders' place in the hierarchy of management of the community, the age-old process as ancient as life itself.

Are we such a caring society?

Or will some of our children become victims of the future, witnessing power corrupting absolutely as the common good is ignored in the pursuit of the attainment of personally motivated goals?

His attention focuses on ants marching down the front steps. We elders can marvel at, and love innocent children for whom the whole world is so bright with promise; places to go, things to explore, potential to be reached.

We are a half a century in years apart, two whole generations. In the bittersweet dichotomy of realism, we will not see today's child reach our ages.

What will the future be for him? Will he become a good man, a caring man, a man tall in stature and soul, recognised as a potent force for political change and a motivator for positive human achievement? Will he reach self-actualisation, comfortable with himself and his place in society?

We (and I) will not know. What we do know is that our children (and grandchildren) are our future.

We are promised nothing in this world, but we have today. We get to try again tomorrow, another day, to reach out and encourage our very young wonderful people all around us to reach for the sky.

He smiles up at me, those long-lashed sparkly eyes, full of excitement at the beginning of another day in life. " Come on, Granny," he says. "Let's run!"

Happy New Year 2009

Martha Harris Myron CFP(US) TEP(UK) JP- Bermuda is a Cross Border Financial Planning specialist providing independent fee-only tax, estate, investment, and strategic retirement planning services for Bermuda residents with multi-national connections, internationally mobile people and US citizens living abroad. For more information, contact martha.myrongmail.com or 735-4720.