Basking in sunny fall days is what fills up my tank before cool weather keeps us more indoors.  Add sparkling water and ducks and it’s a little bite of heaven.  Kid heaven too, except for one thing…

…they are dry.

I watch them pace the banks like an inquisitive, newly-caged animal.  They peer precariously over the edge as if unconsciously hoping to slip in and experience the splash.

While I am content to use my eyes to wallow in the twinkling beauty of sun sparkles and fill my lungs with fresh cool air, my children do not share this same willingness for passive appreciation.  The ducks and geese are being suggestive.  They freely waddle in and out of the water, watching us suspiciously, curious to know whether we possess something they might eat.

The logic of young children is different than mine of course.  At first glance I see slippery mud banks sure to ruin any activities planned for the day that necessitated the only shoes we brought.  I wonder about unknown quantities of goose and duck poop the innocent water houses in its pond soup, and hesitate thinking that it really *is* fall and the cooler temperature puts me into semi-paranoia mode at the thought that I would willingly create the possibility of sick kids.

But I only think of all that because I’m the mom.  I’ve already slipped into the water countless times as a child, and ran barefoot to avoid annoying shoe-related shenanigans like worrying whether they’d get wet or ruined.  My paranoia stems from what is suggested to me by some unconfirmed nag in the back of my mind.  I get the gut feeling the nag was generated by some sensationalized news report at some point in my history.  I really don’t *know* what the perfect combination of wet feet to temperature and wind velocity is to generate illness, nor do I know that playing in pond water with poop in it is a health hazard.  We’re not going to drink it.

So, off come the socks and shoes.  The pants are rolled up in a hopeless effort to keep them dry.

Our day at the pond becomes a moment of tentative exploration…

…then of sweet, squishy bliss.

For the kids, life is had in the moments of discovery.  These are the moments of childhood freedom.


2 responses to “squish

  1. Squish is a classic! I think I could even feel the mud roll up over the toes and up the ankle. I miss that sensation. Why? Because the last time I sensed it, I was alone and no little boys to share it with. It was just not the same. The moment needs to be shared with little boys and I don’t have any. Sigh… Do you want to come and share?

    We miss you…

    Your uncle Ford from Minnesota…

  2. Yes! I’d *love* to share 🙂 Honestly, that’s a primary reason I’m putting this blog together…to capture a shared emotion and experience in the absence of physical presence. Some of the most intoxicating experiences are oddly only that when there is someone to share it with, who also appreciates it.

    It’s a date 😉 When we see you next, let’s squish the mud.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s