We were just a few blocks from the video store where new episodes of Dora & Diego had become available. Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young were working their way through "Woodstock", when I turned to ask Bee if she wanted to go for a walk in the rain. Her head was slumped all the way to the side and she was snoring. I turned around and headed for the Glendale Freeway and the baseball fields of Scholl Canyon.
By the time we made it up there, REM's "Green" was playing and the Bee was still sound asleep. I let the dog out and we pondered the post rain beauty in what until recently had been bone dry hillsides. Low white clouds of mist hovered about the tinderbox hills of brush and the higher mountains were completely hidden. All around the rain was working its magic as creosote, sage and eucalyptus gave thanks with their combined aromas. The ball fields were flooded.
And then Bee was awake. It usually takes her a while to come around, but not this day. Her eyes got big about the puddles, puddles as far as her big eyes could see. "Getta me down, daddy, getta me down!" Translation: "Get me out of this car seat right now you big boob!" She hit the parking lot running with the dog. Puddles over asphalt, and grass, and the red clay brick dust of the baseball diamonds all have a different quality that must be experienced feet first to be fully understood. It's safe to say that Bee knows all of them very well by now. It started raining again, but she was not deterred and ran away from me as fast as she could finally covering all three fields. One can become soaking wet by falling into a swimming pool during an engagement party, say, but it is nothing compared to the wet that you get from walking in the pouring rain with a toddler in love with puddle jumping. Who knew?
Guest Blogger Sparky
There is never a puddle without appeal to a child. Because at the bottom of the puddle is mud. Mud can be used to create art, to cloth one's naked body, as a weapon or a toy, and in desperate times, dinner.
ReplyDeletemy bad dad story has C and I going to the park on our bikes on a middle spring day only to find the park completely submersed because of the melting snow. Handicap, of course not, just a new dimension of play. Swing swing swing jump and make a big splash, slide, slide, slide and make a big splash. You get the idea. At the end of playing we started riding home only to find that C's bike had a flat. So we pushed our bikes. Unfortunately, C's socks were soaked and her wellington boots rubbed her heels raw so by the time we got home two giant blisters had grown. What was I thinking? Fortunately, C now walks normally and still likes rain and puddles (not to mention mud).
nice one sparky, I love stories of scholl canyon
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