Don't act like you're not jealous.

You’re stressed out, maybe a little depressed, and definitely worrying about whatever horrifying amount of work is hanging over your head. You’re striding down College Walk, passing people, in your own focused world. You might be about to crack. But mercifully something pulls you out of your personal death spiral of despair: an adorable six-year-old riding a scooter, free of worry. Lily Icangelo brings us this year’s first In Defense Of, and tells us why kids on campus are a great good.

You’ve seen them—prancing around college walk in their tiny little outfits, filled with a type of energy that you have not (naturally) known in years. Some people do not appreciate these adorable little creatures’ constant presence, so Bwog is proud to stand up for those Gap Kids-wearing, temper-tantrum-having, tiny joyous people.

Kids may have been the intended audience for that annoying children’s concert performed outside of Butler the other week, but even they knew not to show up. This suggests that kids are smart and have good taste—really they are just smaller and cuter versions of ourselves. Since everything is better in a miniature version (think cupcakes, cats, and problem sets), we should welcome the presence of our own personal Mini-Me’s.

Children represent an innocent freedom you once knew and loved. And guess what? You now have the chance to live vicariously through those little kids and regain that freedom you once knew. Maybe one day after class you’ll have the sudden urge to run through campus while screaming “I WANT MY SPONGEBOB UNDERWEAR!!!” (true story) but are too afraid of the social consequences. Or you just learned that the dining hall ran out of Diet Coke and you have a paper due tomorrow so all you want to do is fall to the floor and throw a tantrum. No problem. Take a walk around campus; you WILL pass a child acting out all of those crazy emotions that you are currently feeling. Take a moment to pretend you are that child. You will feel better.

Plus, kids are not judging you. They do not judge when they see you walking out of a random dorm one morning in clothes that you wore last night. They do not care that you didn’t know about that “secret” show/after party in Brooklyn last night. They are not going to attack you for drinking water out of a plastic water bottle instead of a reusable one. They are just there: non-judgmental, a stress-free zone for all of us neurotic college students to step into.

The most obvious and perhaps strongest argument for kids is that they are ridiculously cute and cuddly—like puppies. Who doesn’t love puppies? Walking past an adorable child on your way to class is like walking past a million rainbow-producing unicorns. Take one look at their tiny Dora the Explorer backpacks and light-up sneakers and you’ll find yourself in a momentary cuteness-coma where exams don’t exist and tuition is paid by smiles. These kids brighten up even the gloomiest of days; they are our saving grace for the overwhelmingly stressful environment of this school. What kind of loveless, cuteness-hating, opponent of happiness wouldn’t want them around?

Photo via Wikimedia Commons