“Life is a big adventure” my four year old reminded me this morning.
I’m hoping not to forget. Please shoot me if I do, because life won't be worth living.
I’m hoping to wake up each morning looking forward to the day’s adventure, however small it may be.
I'm most happy when I ignore that I'm supposed to behave like an adult. I like doing trolley races at the supermarket or having lunch up on trees. I happily skip along when the cracks on the pavement have to be avoided, because, let's face it, it makes perfect sense. I always make sure the invisible monsters we catch and cook in the oven are well done before we eat them.
The difficult thing about being an adventurer is not to let life’s problems weigh you down, or routine dull your perception.
There’s no credit in drowning in stress and anxiety. For some reason I habitually think that’s the correct (and the expected) response.
It takes a little person to remind me it’s not.