I love that I feel free enough to let him get that dirty, on a regular basis. So wet and dirty that when I plonked him back in the pram a not-so-little creek streamed from him. Because it doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is that he is allowed to find out what it feels like, and if he likes it, to carry on until it’s so cold that I have to drag him home (for my sake! not so many jackets fit me these days!).
If only I offered the same permissions to myself.
When Eden was tiny, I read somewhere that one of the 10 most important things that we could do for our children was to provide magic for them. She explained this using various examples, one of which being that they don’t need to know that if they lie in the sand letting the waves roll over them, it’ll be a pain to wash their hair. They should just be allowed to enjoy how great it feels. It’s our problem that we stop ourselves from doing such fun things because we know of the ‘consequences’. As though washing our hair is a big life problem.
Being grown up means we think about these things though. We think about the fact that if we have a really big milkshake like we want, there won’t be milk for breakfast. Or if we don’t stop playing now, then tea will be late.
Some of these things are important. Lots of them aren’t. And lots of them aren’t important if forgotten once in awhile.
So what if it’s homemade chips with cheese and gravy for tea? Last I checked, it’s not going to kill you if you let things slip once in awhile.