Grownups and boring dreams.

Zainab has recently learnt to express her joy more clearly. Each day, quite literally, she is learning something new and celebrating. Each time she bends down to pick an object or recognizes something with its name or walks an extra step. She pauses, looks at us, smiles broadly and claps.

We clap back. She remains impressed and beyond. Thriving with this unimaginable contagious level of energy and positivity and happiness and celebration.

She claps and celebrates to and with- Her little friends from playdates around, her grandparents that she fondly skypes with and her Baba and Mamma of course.

I looked at her while she clapped for the millionth time today while her Baba responded with equal energy I realized something.

As we grow older, we stop being impressed. Routine takes away our energy. We go out of sync with outlets that could reflect back or take in that sort of energy that we do have at times even as grownups.

As we grow older, one by one, we start realizing and seeing the other sides of our favorite authors, movies, songs or heroes. We suddenly realize not everyone seems to be as passionate about those particular quotes/people as you are.

We start university or work, make new friends who while retaining their own set of favorites, start offering criticism (often valid) on our dreams/ways/passions and whatever may have motivated us till now.

Back in my Alevels, I knew and felt allergic to cynics around me. Fast forward three years into university, and perhaps that is exactly what I had successfully turned into.

We hide away our embarrassing little things that once motivated us. We stop celebrating and cherishing and dreaming wild and crazy.

I mean come on, 2010, three year of my undergrad and my Finance Professor had actively defended my dream of becoming the CEO of Boeing one day (while the class just laughed away). Am I the CEO? Nope. Far from even working there. But that is, just yet.

Sounds so cliche. So typical. But that indeed is the hard reality. We.stop.dreaming. We brush away 'that funny song that once motivated me' under the carpet to sound and look mature, adult and synced with the world.

Bit by bit, moment by moment, we regress. Gradually, individually, collectively - we regress our passions, our dreams. With each bit of information broadening our spectrum, we start becoming less and less impressed.

We stop celebrating. We stop clapping.