The other day, I was walking behind a mom holding hands with her little boy. He reminded me of a puppy, first time on a leash, unable to walk a straight line.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and pointed to a tossed away water bottle. “Somebody L-I-T-T-E-R-E-D!” he shouted.

Now, how does a three-year-old boy have the heightened conscience to view litter as such a grave injustice?

And what happens between toddlerhood to teenagehood to dull that keen awareness?

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