Sum and I went to the park the other day. I felt I hadn’t been a fun mom for awhile so I wanted to do something for him that he’d appreciate. He was ecstatic to run around in the shaded play area, nonplussed at the slides and freaking out over the swings. His favorite. When he tired of them, we walked a little on the trail, to the creek.
I pulled his sweaty feet out of his shoes, took off his shirt and shorts and let him play in the water. I closed my brain to thoughts of “well, this creek is polluted and full of sewage” because those are the kind of adult thoughts that tend to push away genuine fun. I played in creeks possibly full of sewage when I was a child and look at me! I’m fine! He was enthralled. He picked up rocks out of the creek bottom, occasionally put them in his mouth to my chagrin, and splashed like a maniac. He smiled, didn’t say a lot and stayed busy “working”. He had never played in a creek before and the movement of the water drew him in. His hand would stay in the water, feeling the movement of it, the coolness. He was entranced, and I couldn’t have done anything better. I scooped him up when it was time to go and he didn’t throw a fit. He smelled like baby boy sweat and creek water.
