When in the presence of babies or toddlers, Kevin would constantly ask for his wheelchair to be turned so he could follow every movement and action that a child would make; he didn't want to miss anything. He understood the progression of development and the celebration of each step along the way. He was fascinated by the very things--physically--he could never do on his own.
While watching babies and toddlers Kevin was in continuous awe and wonder of the crucial passing of milestones--crawling, standing, walking, talking--things that he wasn't physically capable of accomplishing. He wasn't bitter and never reflected a sense that life was unfair. For as long as I knew him (over 20 years) Kevin always carried a sense that he was uniquely and wonderfully made, even if he himself lacked the physical ability to crawl, walk, or stand.
Kevin was always fully absorbed while watching (and celebrating) the milestones of others; during these moments of joyful observation, Kevin seemed to completely forget about himself.
Throughout his life, Kevin was a highly focused observer, especially of others.
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