The Wonderful Things You Will Be: Summary & Key Insights

The heart of the story begins with the simplest of moments—a parent looking at their child and wondering. In this quiet gaze lies a lifetime of dreams. I wanted that opening to feel like still air before a song begins, where the reader can hear their own heartbeat echoing the same question. This is the space where imagination ignites.

As I picture the parent speaking, there is no pressure, no demand to become something specific. They are simply marveling at possibility. The tone had to be tender and free of pretense. What happens next is a cascade of possibilities, each born from love. I used my illustrations as extensions of this wonder—children dressed as superheroes, artists, adventurers, and caretakers—all representing not professions but qualities of spirit. Bravery is shown through flight, creativity through color, kindness through open hands. The watercolor softness of the images reminds us that futures are not fixed; they shimmer and change with light.

This segment of the book carries one central idea: the future is not a map already drawn. It is a garden of what-ifs waiting to bloom. And in imagining who our children might be, we’re also reminded that they come into the world already carrying their own seeds—their personality, their tenderness, their small sparks of curiosity.

By offering wonder instead of expectation, the parent becomes both guide and witness. That is the emotional truth I wanted every reader to feel: that our children do not need to earn our pride—they live inside it, always.

As the story unfolds, we move through scenes of what the child might become. Some images are fanciful—costumes, clouds, soaring balloons—yet each holds a purpose. I wanted children to see themselves in a thousand different disguises, none of them mutually exclusive. One might hold a paintbrush and dream in color; another might build or care or protect; one might even be quiet yet fiercely imaginative.

In these depictions, I celebrate difference. Every imagination is valid. The text’s rhythm builds gently, as if saying to each child, “You could be this, or that, or something new entirely.” The repetition asserts freedom, reminding us that identity unfolds rather than arrives. It does not matter whether a child grows toward art, science, kindness, or bravery—their spirit remains whole.

My inspiration came partly from watching how children play. They shift roles instantly—daring to be astronauts one minute, doctors the next—without fear of contradiction. That uninhibited fluidity is what this book honors. Every page becomes a safe space for becoming.

For parents reading aloud, this passage can open a doorway: a chance to speak affirmation into a child’s heart. You can say, “You can be strong and gentle. You can dream and do. You can fail and still be loved.” The story does not define success—it defines worth through kindness, generosity, and self-expression.

By giving voice to these possibilities, I wanted to set an example of acceptance, showing that diversity of being is not something to tolerate—it’s something to celebrate. Each wonderful thing is part of the great tapestry of humanity.