Sandbox Genius

By xannychan

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Short A/N: Why the title? Well, I think the smart ones of the world are the ones who build castles in the sand—and let the rain wash them away when they go inside for a glass of milk and cookies.

Warnings: Sokka thinks. I think that's a fair warning.

---

They're all little kids, really. There was nothing that was really special about them, aside from the fact that the Avatar was with them, not to mention a blind earth-bending master and one of the few if not the only female water-bending warrior and a genius—well, not really genius, but he was damn smart—and a gargantuan bison was flying over their heads and, oh, you know, they've pretty much gone around the world and fought in real battles, with real blood and real tears and real fears and real hate and really real pain. The kind of stuff that old men who've been to war wish they could tell their grandkids.

But they really aren't special, just kids who know better. Children who have the whole world on their shoulders. But since when was that any different from any other generation?

Well, at least, that's the way he likes to think, because he's not quite yet ready for getting older just yet. Because there's something tragic about children that grow up too fast. Because there are things that children know better than adults.

Share. Take a nap when you're tired. Sing when you're happy. Eat if you're hungry. Cry if you're sad. Tell the truth. Don't hit.

Children understand better, because there are no complicated formalities or fancy words or politics. There is only Life, crystal clear despite the smog.

"I'm scared." "Let's be friends!" "Can you hold my hand?" "Come on, we don't have all day…" "I wanna go home."

There are things that can only exist in the mind of the child, and most of the time, the dreams and fantasies and "noble" principles of childhood just disappear, like a wisp of smoke. They are childish things, really.

A person can make their own fate. A girl is just as strong as a boy. Dreams can come true. It's okay to be afraid and cry. Giving up is not an option.

And despite the child's inexperience, there is something wise and bright about them. Jaded, world-weary, heavy-hearted men—there are plenty of those. But a child with hope, with aspirations and simple desires and beautiful smiles despite lost vision or lost villages or lost families or a hundred lost years—there can never be enough of those.

So the next time Katara, filled up with silly exasperation, stamps her little foot and huffs, "Grow up, won't you, Sokka," he'll blithely say, "No, I will not," because he's only got one childhood, and there's something awful about getting older.

---