P is for Puddle

The other day I stepped in a puddle, accidentally. Hadn’t noticed where I was walking, too busy looking up at buildings or studying people or something else more important than looking where I was walking. The hem of my pants got wetter than wet, and one of my socks was soaked too.
I responded like many adults would, I grumbled at myself for being so stupid for getting wet pants. When I sat down later, and felt the cold wet hem stuck against my leg, I grumbled again.
Then I stopped myself.
Why the heck did I get grumblymumblywumblytumbly?
 When I was a child I couldn’t wait to get outside after the rain. I put on my boots and my jacket and couldn’t wait to walk through my puddle.
When we took our Sunday forest walk, I always chose the path that led me through puddles, and when the water splatted up against one of the adults in my life, it was even more fun to see their reactions 😀
I am an adult now, an adult who avoids puddles like a plague. Other things became more important than walking through puddles. More important than gleefully jumping into the muddy water and seeing how far I could splatter it.
More important equals less fun. Less fun equals grumblymumblywumblytumbly.
I want to live a life where I play every day, led by my Inner two year old! Do you know what that means?  It’s time that life becomes a puddle filled adventure again.

I am going to leap in. Are you???

sylvia

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