John and I went for a walk after dinner this evening. It rained a lot today, so everything was wet. First, John ran back and forth over the pitching mound and finally slipped and fell. When he got up, his hands and knees were covered with red dirt.
Then we went to the playground and he climbed up and down the stairs. For a while, he took my advice and didn't go down the slide because it was wet. But at some point he did get wet, so we started to head home.
When we got to the basketball courts, John saw some big puddles and decided it would be fun to step in them. Then he decided it would fun to stomp in them. Then he decided it would be fun to see how hard he could stomp and how high he could make the water fly. Once he finished with one puddle, he went on to another. After a while thoughts of pneumonia came to mind and I decided it was time to go home.
"He could have gone on for hours," one of the tennis players said as we were leaving.
"It's a good thing his mother wasn't here," said I.
Yes, it is true that John's socks and shoes and clothes got all covered with mud, but sometimes that is how good memories are made.
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