There are times when I might well be not considered the best parentand today may quite possibly be one of those days. 

It's grey outside and there has been a steady drizzle all day.  So what?  

Well, despite the dampness and the chill on this rather non-spring style day,  I let my four and a half year old do what many other sensible french parents wouldn't allow.  I let him run under the jets of the fountain on the market square and stood watching him giggle and squeal with delight. 

I could have denied him the pleasure but how much fun would that have been for either of us? He wouldn't have laughed so much and I would have dried salty tears instead of fountain drops.

Watching on and hesitating, a mother reluctantly let go of her child's hand to do the same.  Slowly, the corners of her mouth started to turn upward as she too felt the warm delight of watching little footsteps splash through the water, tapping against the pavement.

Returning home, he laughed some more, hiding amongst the flowers as they themselves hid under raindrops.  Sparkling drops, jewels on beds of violet brightening up the garden.