Tonight I read a silly little book to my son before bed. It had little furry patches on the animals bellies. And each time he touched one he giggled with delight. It made me smile. And laugh. And changed my mood entirely. It had been a tough day (week, month) for a number of reasons. But his perfect little laugh and curiosity was a welcome antidote to being a grumpy adult.
All it took was opening a book, and my heart to an alternative to moodiness. Wanting everything to be perfect and orderly and timely is just foolish right now. And I’ve got to embrace and accept that that’s ok and can even be wonderful.
