Your shoe’s untied, son.

But you don’t notice.

All you see are butterflies, and toy trucks, and pebbles on the ground, and the sun shining in the water...

Son, you’ve got to put things in order.

Set things straight, tie them up, put them away, neat and perfect. Everything has a place; everything must be under control.

Control it. Put it where it belongs.

But you don’t see all that.

You see a smile, a laugh, a book to read

A time together playing in the mud

Climbing a tree

Walking through the grass...

Author: Randy Stahla, copyright 2006.