There is a classic picture of my hanging on my mother's wall. I'm almost 2 years old. I'm leaning up against they yellow siding of our house grinning up at the camera like a maniac..entire face just COVERED in mud.
What I like most about this picture is that it was taken with REAL film and a REAL camera. Meaning my full-time working mother had to find her toddler, outside by herself, playing in a soupy muddy mess, eating mud and leave her alone to go find the camera.
Yesterday my mom was home with Sam all day. I got a text mid morning that made me just erupt with laughter. I was informed that my almost 18 month old son found a fresh steaming pile of dog turds in the back yard and was gleefully squishing the mound as hard with both hands. He was squeezing to feel how it smooged between his chubby little fingers.
And I couldn't help but be thrilled.
The major reason, obviously, was because I wasn't the one there who had to clean up the mess.
But also because I reveled in the idea that he is getting to experience all of these wonderful visceral experiences we get as humans on this earth. Wind in our hair...toes in warm sticky mud...the smell of cookies in the oven...the sight of spring flowers after winter...the sound of breezes rippling through trees. The truly amazing simplicity that makes living such a joy.