We have forgotten how to be kids, huh?

Wouldn’t it be great

if there was a Charter School that

all adults

were mandated to attend

O  F  T  E  N

to learn how to be a kid again

or merely stay a child

or to dare be a child.          .          .

Kids would be teachers

and we’d all major in

R E C E S S

We’d learn their math
(That 1 + 1 = way more than two)

we’d learn their language

we’d learn their dream power

we’d learn their art techniques

we’d sing their kind of music

we’d have lunch time of ice-cream and cotton candy for a day

we’d major in mud puddle jumping

 J  U  S  T        B  E  C  A  U  S  E

 like Miss Emma

my colleague, Rachel’s daughter

who found pure joy

not by walking the zoo and seeing all of the animals

but finding a puddle shortly after a rain storm

and being ALLOWED by mom

to jump away happily.          .          .

ahhhhh.            .            .

to jump untethered in a mud puddle

or to go fishing in it and expect so much to catch fish

so much so

that you actually bring the tartar sauce along.        .        .

Pablo Picasso was right, wasn’t he:

“EVERYTHING  YOU  CAN  IMAGINE  IS  REAL; EVERY  CHILD  IS  AN  ARTIST, THE  PROBLEM  IS  HOW  TO  REMAIN  AN  ARTIST  ONCE  HE  GROWS  UP.”

This past weekend I became a child again.       .       .

but it was even more momentarily

than my several firsts go throughs.          .         .

We visited our daughter Zoe, our son-in-law Mark and our

granddaughter, Evey .        .        .

.          .          .literally moments before we were leaving

Eve forget to hold on to a coffee table and took

6-8 unassisted steps

HER  FIRSTS

and made us feel like we were taking our

First few steps.          .          .

my 62 year old heart

beat excitedly younger.          .          .

Some 12 hours later

a large part of our family gathered together

to celebrate my dad’s Birthday

We sang  HAPPY BIRTHDAY

ate cake, cupcakes, Birthday potluck foods

and celebrated that

L          I          F          E

is never made up from how many Candles are found on a Cake

so   much   as

M            O            M            E            N            T            S

.            .            .m   o   m   e   n   t   s

that aren’t defined by any age

so much as the endless child inside of us

desperately fighting to simply remain

a     c  h  i  l  d

reaching for a hand to hold

a dream to imagine

a song to sing

a  jingle  to  dance

a food to eat

a picture to create

and yes.          .          .

a puddle to jump into

again and again and again and.         .          .

Just in time to jump into a pile of leaves that begs never to be left alone

Life  is  filled  with

F     I     R     S     T           S     T     E     P     S

and D A N C I N G

our  A-B-C’ S

like TOMORROW

and YESTERDAY

is our forever

T   O   D   A  Y

and  that  our  best  creations 

are very next ones.          .          .

Now, that’s worth singing

H A P P Y     B I R T H D AY

with the loud refrain of

O N E     M O R E     T I M E