Yesterday's storm left a plethora of puddles in our backyard, specifically where the original cement meets the newer stuff. Teagan's friend Keaton had come over to play and wanted to go outside. Knowing that she'd gravitate towards the puddles (who wouldn't?) I insisted she wear her wee rain boots. I should have given her a straw instead.
Sending her out to play in the puddles didn't yield the results I had expected, but it shouldn't have surprised me that she surprised me. She's so creative and wonderfully weird. I tried to stop her from lapping up the pools of water that had collected on various outdoor toys, but was unsuccessful there. I didn't swipe it away in time to stop her from drinking the water from the bubble container I'd left on the picnic table. So I suppose it shouldn't surprise me when she burps bubbles later today.
She was soaked from head to toe (having tripped in the puddle) and a saturated diaper (having lost a shoving contest with Keaton and landing on her bum) and she loved every minute of it. She's such a hilarious example to me of making the best of things - just like her Dad. She claimed multiple times that she wasn't thirsty, so I finally gave in and stopped trying to stop her. I just stood in the doorway with a towel, clean clothes and open arms, waiting for my little puddle licker. Partly because I'm mellowing out as a parent and partly because of a tragedy this morning in Connecticut. A 20 something man marched into the elementary school where his mother taught and shot and killed her and, several other teachers and 20 children between the ages of 5 and 10. Heartbreaking. Absolutely heartbreaking. My heart aches for those parents who instead of holding their children close tonight, and reading them bedtime stories will be weeping and wondering about the life cut so tragically short. Rest assured I'll be a little nicer to my sweet, silly goose today. Today she can lick all the puddles she wants.
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