“Stay out of the mud,” said the mother as her young son begged to go outside following a spring rain.
He promised and ran to put on his yellow rain hat, the kind which pulls over the head leaving only the face exposed; one resembling a space helmet. He left the matching slicker on the bedroom floor.
He was a big five years old, dressed out in yellow helmet, green tank top, jeans rolled up to the knees and red flip flops. He rolled his bike out of the carport, stopping to pet Chocolate Snowball, his dog. Jumping around with a frisky eagerness to play, dog licked boy’s face. Friends.
The tyke rode through the yard and down the sidewalk. It was familiar path, taken often, made fresh by the recent rain. The dog chased the wheeled rider, nipping at the tires.
At the street crossing, the youngster came to an abrupt halt. There, where the two neighborhood streets met, was a rain puddle bigger than the child’s backyard plastic swimming pool.
Briefly glancing around for cars or mothers, he inched his bike toward the puddle. He made one big swing around the waterhole, bouncing his bike over the curbs. With the second swing, he edged the tires closer to the water. By the third loop, water lapped over the tires.
Around and around he rode, wheeling deeper into the water with each circle. He pedaled hard as the water splashed against his feet and legs.
At first, his four-footed friend sat on the curb and watched the antics. Soon, however, the excitement was too much and he bounded into the water to resume the chase. Again and again and again, the two cut through the water making waves in a street puddle.
“Sonny! Time for supper,” a voice echoed through the neighborhood. Spinning out of his watery racetrack, the youngster headed down the sidewalk, homeward bound. The dog raced beside him.
“You promised to stay of the mud,” bemoaned the mother as the dried off her son with an oversized towel.
“It wasn't mud, only the biggest puddle you’ve ever seen,” rationalized the child, resisting the rough rub of terrycloth.
And like an intercessor, Chocolate Snowball licked the mother’s hand, just before he gave his silken coat a final shake to free it of muddy waters.
1983
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