My son loves water of all kinds--whether it's a fountain splash park at Disney or a small backyard pool, this kid gravitates toward water and has to be IN IT if he sees it. Even "ucky allo" (yucky water), which he finds pooled at the bottom of a slide after a shower.
Run-of-the-mill puddles are no different. If it's raining out, I know that we won't be able to leave the house without a full-on desperate attempt to streak for the puddles and do a little one-two-three dance step in each one.
As adults, we generally avoid the puddles, both in our parking lots and in our lives. Puddles are messy. They make our feet wet. They are an inconvenience. We could do without puddles.
Yesterday afternoon, Munch and I sought out the puddles. It had rained off and on for a couple days, so the ground was wet, but not soaked. Puddles were there, but not plentiful. We had to look. And Munch seemed to know this was a search and discover mission, rather than a jump into everything mission.
Munch pointed at a puddle, sometimes so far away or small that it took me a moment to see it. Then we ran for it, enjoyed it for a moment, and then he pulled my hand to find the next one. We went throughout the parking lot, finding puddles and eliciting delight at every one.
My son teaches me that some things that I may find hum-drum, like puddles, are actually wondrous, if I just take a moment to enjoy them, if I forget about sneakers that will need to be dried or cold socks soaking my feet.
Today, look for the puddles. And hop in one.