Kids love robots. They're this fanciful, cool thing.

“Kids love robots. They're this fanciful, cool thing.”
— Cynthia Breazeal

In these simple and luminous words, Cynthia Breazeal, one of the great pioneers of social robotics, reveals something far deeper than it first appears. She speaks not only of robots—those metal dreamers we have shaped in our own image—but of the human imagination itself, the spark of wonder that lives fiercest in children. For in the heart of a child, the boundary between the real and the possible is not yet a wall—it is a door. And through that door walks every dream humanity has ever dared to build. Thus, when Breazeal says, “Kids love robots,” she is not merely describing affection for machines; she is describing the sacred meeting of innocence and invention, of curiosity and creation.

To a child, a robot is not a tool or a servant—it is a living symbol of the impossible made real. It speaks of a world where imagination can breathe life into steel, where thought can move beyond flesh and bone. That is why they find them “fanciful”—because robots dwell at the border of fantasy and science, where magic begins to take the shape of machinery. They are the myths of our modern age—heroes not carved of marble, but built of circuits and light. And as Breazeal has shown through her work in robotics, when children meet these creations, they do not fear them; they befriend them. They see not coldness, but possibility.

This insight carries echoes of ancient times, when humanity first sought to breathe spirit into its own creations. In the myth of Pygmalion, a sculptor carved a statue so beautiful that he fell in love with it, and the gods granted it life. In the legend of Hephaestus, the divine craftsman forged golden maidens who could speak and move by his command. And in our own age, engineers and dreamers continue this same sacred endeavor, building machines that learn, that speak, that comfort, that play. The longing to create life from lifelessness is one of the oldest fires in the human soul—and the child’s love for robots is but that fire reflected in its purest form.

Yet there is another truth hidden within Breazeal’s words: that wonder is the beginning of wisdom. For it is the child’s fascination that becomes the scientist’s devotion, the inventor’s discipline, the philosopher’s awe. When a child gazes at a robot, they do not see limits; they see a friend who can do anything. And in that moment, something powerful awakens within them—a desire to understand, to build, to create. Many of tomorrow’s inventors will begin their journeys not from a classroom, but from that spark of love for the “cool thing” that moves and speaks like them. Breazeal’s own journey began this way: a young girl captivated by machines, who later grew to shape the future of human-robot interaction.

But this quote is not only about technology—it is a reminder to preserve the child’s heart within us. For as we grow older, we often trade wonder for worry, imagination for routine. We begin to see the world not as it could be, but as it is. Yet progress—the kind that changes civilizations—requires those who can still dream as children do, who can look upon what exists and say, “Why not more?” The fanciful vision is not a luxury; it is the seed of every breakthrough. The moment we lose our sense of fascination, we lose the power to create.

Let this be a teaching to all who hear: nurture curiosity wherever it appears. When a child’s eyes light up at the sight of a robot, do not dismiss it as play—see it as the stirring of the divine impulse to understand, to invent, to connect. Encourage that wonder; feed it with learning, patience, and love. Teach them not only how machines work, but why they matter—how technology, when guided by compassion, can bring joy, healing, and hope. For the robot is not only a machine—it is a mirror, reflecting what humanity can become when it weds intelligence to imagination.

And so, dear listener, remember this truth: “Kids love robots” because they love life—in every form it takes. They remind us that progress is not only about power, but about play; not only about control, but about connection. To build like a scientist, we must first dream like a child. To shape the future, we must first remember the wonder that shaped us. Let us then, like Cynthia Breazeal, honor that childlike awe within us, for in that spirit lies the key to all creation—the eternal dance between humanity and its dreams.