The little dude crawled out of the bathtub tonight, and subsequently ran down the stairs.
Our stairwell splits in two. There are 7 stairs down, then a landing with a 180 degree turn, and then another 7 stairs down. Before I knew it, the little dude was standing on the landing, butt naked, dripping wet, dancing and jumping.
No music. No reason. He simply decided it was a good moment and a good place to start dancing.
My wife was at the bottom of the stairs. She started dancing. I was at the top of the stairs with the sweet girl in my arms, and suddenly I started dancing.
Before I knew it, the little man had started a full on dance party. He’s still naked and he doesn’t have a care in the world.
In that moment, I couldn’t help but think that he understands something I don’t. Why am I working so hard to be happy? Why do I need to find reasons to feel good?
Why do any of us?
When did we forget how to dance naked on the stairwell?