Hey, Nineteen.

I don't know why I did but I would regularly allow my Big Son access to mud. Maybe it was my youth or naive tranquility or possibly ignorance but, I could celebrate such liveliness back then. Nothing seemed like too much trouble or, perhaps, I felt it was my obligation to let him explore the most innate parts of himself. So mud it was.

His sheer delight was to immerse himself in a brown puddle, preferably creating a dip in the earth. A chasm, if you will. Unsatisfied until his clothes became permanently dingy, he'd then go for another round. He spent the entirety of his 3rd birthday in a mud puddle alongside a sparkling swimming pool as I coaxed him away with cake and presents.

My philosophy leans natural but, since those uncertain days, balance and moderation have reared their practical heads.

While mud is fun, efficiency is peaceful.
While experiments have their place, parameters are necessary.
While love can be sloppy, it can also be graceful.

Big Son doesn't care for mud so much nowadays. He's seen clear through that part of himself. A couple of hard rains will do that to you but even the darkness is light to Him and night is as bright as the day.

This day, I applaud his striking determination to find his own way.

Much love.
As always.