by Karen Abbott
My daughter is a big fan of mud puddles.
When she was little, she would pray for rain so she could go outside and splash in the puddles.
Growing up hasn’t changed her playfulness any. A few weeks ago we had a drenching rain shower in the night. I had to work the next day.
When I got home, she showed me the sizable puddle where she’d splashed and played while I was gone. It was cute, but I didn’t think much more about it right then.
Over the next few days, I remembered it more. I found myself wishing I had more time to splash in puddles. I get too caught up in being a grown up; I forget how refreshing play can be.
The closest I seem to get is taking a walk in the park. And I do mean that I walk, ambling leisurely. I don’t power-walk or walk for exercise, at least at this point.
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