Friday, September 5, 2014

Advice I Might Not Always Give (so, run with it)

I'm in a mood.

I don't know if you would call it reflective, or nostalgic, or contemplative, or goofy -- but I feel the need to pass on some advice to my children, that I might not otherwise share. So, I thought I'd write it down before the mood passes.

To my children,

Life is short.

You don't realize this yet. But before you know it, you'll be staring down the barrel of forty, you'll have a spouse and a mortgage and kids of your own. You'll have responsibilities and cares. That's the way of life, and it's okay. In fact, it can be wonderful. But, right now, you're very lucky -- childhood is a precious gift. Mine certainly was, and if I could grant you one wish right now, it would be for you to have the magical childhood that I had.


There are things that I want you to do....but not necessarily while I'm watching...


My advice to you is to stomp in the rain puddles. Make the biggest splash you can.


Pour glue into the palm of your hand, let it dry and peel away your new skin.


Eat snow. White snow.


Climb higher than you think you can. Higher than you think I would want you to.


Play with your food.


Run fast and walk slow.


Jump out of a swing.


Destroy your toys in creative ways (just not your new toys).


When you play games, make up your own rules.


Dream big dreams. You may never be an astronaut, or a secret agent or a superhero, but aim in that direction.


If you find something that needs coloring, color it.

Get dirty.

Get wet.

Sing out loud.

Sneak a kiss, when you get the chance.

Make good friends and big plans.

Build rockets and dig for dinosaurs and have tea parties.

If it's beautiful, stop and look at it a little longer. If it's not beautiful, make it so.

Dance badly, but enthusiastically.

Get to know your world -- hold it, taste it, feel it, take it apart, put it back together (disregard the left over parts), conquer it, stand in awe of it.

Hold every experience in your heart, and make memories.

Write a grand story. Tonight you have my permission.