What Wet Pants Taught Me About Priorities, Passion, and the Freedom to Play

What’s your priority?

As a kid, it was simple.
“I want to play.”
“I want that video game.”
“I want that snack.”
And we definitely knew what we didn’t want:
“I don’t want to do homework.”
“I don’t want to eat vegetables.”
“I don’t want to go to bed.”

That kind of honesty is crystal-clear when you’re little—and yesterday, I got a wild reminder of it from my own son.

Picture this: I’m at home when my son bolts back inside from the backyard… and pees. Not in the bathroom. Nope—in the living room.

My first thought? Why on earth would you do that?
But as I stood there—confused, annoyed, and slightly impressed by his audacity—I started to think: What was going through his head that made him think this was the best option?

As the frustration faded, it hit me:
He had made a decision. His priority was play. Nothing else. Not even peeing in the toilet—or finding a tree in the backyard. Fun was his mission, and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him. Not even… wet pants.

Sure, after the fact, I made him clean up the mess. (Let’s be honest, I had to re-clean it afterward.) But even as he was half-heartedly wiping the floor, I could see it: his mind was still on the game, on the sunshine, on living.

So I kept thinking about it.
Why was it so easy for him to let go of everything else and just focus on what mattered to him?

Then came the deeper truth:
As adults, we overcomplicate everything.
We block our passions, our dreams, our joy—because we’re afraid of a little discomfort, a little embarrassment.
What will people think?
What if I fail?
What if my pants get wet?

But here’s what my son’s “accident” taught me:
You can always change your pants.
You can’t always get back the time you didn’t spend doing what lit you up inside.

My son wasn’t embarrassed. The other kids didn’t even notice—or care. They were just having fun, fully present, fully alive.

Meanwhile, we adults stack excuses like a game of Jenga:
“I’m too old.”
“I have responsibilities.”
“What if I look stupid?”
“What if people talk about me?”

And all that fear? It’s mostly in our heads.
Most people aren’t even paying attention to us half the time.

So here’s my takeaway, learned from a small puddle and a very determined little boy:
Do what matters. Follow the joy. Don’t let fear, pride, or discomfort stand in your way.

If you want to play, go play.
If you want to start that business, launch that project, write that book—go do it.
Let’s stop waiting until everything is perfect. Because perfect never shows up—but time keeps ticking.

Sometimes, the biggest lessons come with wet pants.
So be brave enough to chase your joy, even if it means getting a little messy along the way.