Never stop being silly

Rhys was playing the other day, being noisy, generally just being 4, and, because I was trying to concentrate on something else and getting wound up by the noise, I told him to stop being silly.

And I can’t stop thinking about it.

Because I don’t ever want him to stop being silly.

I grew up surrounded by silly.  My parents are some of the silliest people I know, and the friends of theirs that were around when I was little were just the same.  For years I struggled to remember how many days were in each month because every time I tried to recite the ’30 days hath September’ poem it morphed into this silly version that I learnt from one of their very good friends.

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That friend sadly passed away at the start of the year, and while it’s extremely sad, there’s some comfort in remembering the gloriously silly things he used to say.  Who wants to be remembered as boring and serious?!

I would much prefer to leave behind a legacy of fun and laughter, and I think he would be happy that I remember him in that way.

Life can be so serious if we let it.  The news is full of stories of pain and hardship and misery.  It’s easy to believe that that’s just what life is.  Especially as we get older, we’re led to believe that we need to put away childish things and get serious.

Well I say yah boo sucks to that!

How boring would life, and the world in fact, be if we did away with silliness?

So, Rhys, you be silly as much as you like, and I’ll do the same.  Let’s sing nonsense songs, dance round the kitchen and do things back to front.

After all, life’s too long to be boring!

Mummascribbles
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