I heard Reed moving around his room this morning and opened his door, expecting to see him sitting in his recliner, reading a book- the usual. Nope. He hovered anxiously near the door, eyes sleepy, covered in baby powder, and greeted me with, "I'm not playing in the baby powder." Note the firefly jar beside him. There was a firefly in there last night. Not anymore. Trust me, I looked really hard. I don't even want to know.
I struggled to keep a straight face and failed, therefore losing the opportunity to try to talk to Reed about the dangers of being dishonest. Oh, well. I cleaned him up, ate breakfast, and drove to my teaching writing class. I didn't have any trouble finding inspiration today! I decided to write a poetic-ish sequel to my post about muddy shoes I wrote a couple of months ago:
“Stay out of the mud!” Mothers shout in unity from porch swings and doorways. Stay out of the puddle, the garden, the weeds- the list goes on. “If you get your new shoes dirty, you’ll be in big trouble, mister!”
I believe a pair of tiny, muddy shoes is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. They speak of creativity, innocence, and adventure. They speak of plain, old fun. They are rule-breakers, out-of-the-box thinkers, innovators. They abhor scheduled screen time, starchy classrooms, and the popular crowd. They sneak a firefly into the house so it can fly around the bedroom at night. They gaze at it in wonder.
I have a new mantra for mothers:
“Roll in the mud. Bathe in puddles. Exfoliate your belly in the sand. But don’t bring it in the house, or muddy shoes start singing a different tune- one of responsibility and the value of hard work.” :)
I believe a pair of tiny, muddy shoes is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. They speak of creativity, innocence, and adventure. They speak of plain, old fun. They are rule-breakers, out-of-the-box thinkers, innovators. They abhor scheduled screen time, starchy classrooms, and the popular crowd. They sneak a firefly into the house so it can fly around the bedroom at night. They gaze at it in wonder.
I have a new mantra for mothers:
“Roll in the mud. Bathe in puddles. Exfoliate your belly in the sand. But don’t bring it in the house, or muddy shoes start singing a different tune- one of responsibility and the value of hard work.” :)
Cute. Now let's see how that works out in real life...