Now it wouldn't have been such an issue if the beginning of the walk hadn't been so wacky. You see, my kid followed us out the door.
Little guy: "Catch mom."
Me: "No, I'm heading out, I don't want to lose the sun."
Little guy: "Just catch once and throw it back."
I gave in and caught, then threw back. It was a bad throw.
Little guy: "It has to be a good catch and a good throw, mom.
By now we're half way down the block because, yes, I did keep walking s-l-o-w-l-y.
He threw again. It went to the left of me. I kept walking.
He ran and grabbed the ball.
Little guy: "No, wait! Catch!"
He threw again. I caught. I threw, beautifully I must add. And he caught.
Me: "OK, see ya!" And Hazel and I ran off.
About fifteen minutes later the sky got dark, scary, and lightningy. And then it rained. I didn't mind a bit. I rather loved it. But my glasses seriously need windshield wipers. Hazel? Well, every bit of the walk/run from then on was simply wrong. Water landing on her - wrong. Running through muddy puddles - wrong. Mom insisting that she keep going when all she wanted to do was stay in a dry spot under a tree - wrong.
We got home and the little guy came out of his room.
Little guy: "You got all wet, mom."
Me: "Yup. You think my send-off had anything to do with that?"
And then he smiled and gave me a hug. I might just suggest a game of catch tonight.
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