When we were children, cartoons were simple.  Good was good, bad was bad.  You fell, you cried, you got up and the story moved on.

Growing up, something strange happens:  we start understanding what we once overlooked.

Now, when I read fables, fairy tales, or illustrated children’s books,  I often sense another layer beneath the surface.  Not because the stories became deeper,  but because I finally have enough life experience to read what was never written.

As a child, I followed the plot.  As an adult, I notice the motives.  Back then, I cared about who won.  Now, I care about who tried even if they failed.

Those awkward characters, repetitive mistakes,  and slow, clumsy pacing that once felt annoying  now feel painfully real.

Because real life rarely moves forward in a heroic, elegant way.  Most of the time, it drags, detours, stalls  learning through mistakes while pretending it knows where it’s going.

Cartoons and fairy tales were never “for children only.”  They simply use the gentlest language  to carry the hardest truths.

About fear, loneliness, failure.  About being misunderstood, laughed at,  and still choosing to keep going.

When we were young, we lacked the experiences to recognize them.  So they stayed stories.  Only later, when life gives us matching emotions,  do those images finally begin to speak.

Maybe cartoons didn’t gain depth.  Maybe we did.

That’s why, now, I’m willing to sit down and watch a cartoon.  Not to escape reality,  but because it quietly helps me process what reality taught me without explanation.

Understanding fairy tales isn’t about becoming naïve again.  It’s about realizing we’ve been living inside a parable all along.



—— XC Scribbles · 玖拾參 XCIII 🎠