He jumps in puddles
Seeking out adventure
How high can he jump
How fast can he get down the slide
His world is one of wonder
A seed from a tree
A bird in the garden
All things to marvel at
His emotions aren't filtered
They are there to be heard
When did I stop jumping in puddles?
Or singing, just because
When did I forget the joy of feeling the squelch of mud through my fingers?
Or molding and shaping of playdough?
'Meme, mummy?' he asks, as he rides his bike through the biggest puddle he can find. His little face looks around at me, wondering if I'll follow him.
Today I have my gumboots, and I jump right in.
I'm starting to remember.
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