So the kiddo, la mama, and I were out for a walk, bringing along with us a bright red rubber ducky that she'd picked up in Williamsburg. Where we walk, we pass over a small stream that drains from the wetlands, and we thought it'd be fun to drop the rubber duck in and see how long it took to get under the bridge and out the other side. But as this was a special duck -- we called it a Distinguished Duck -- we didn't want to lose it, so we tied a long string to it.
In it went, and we marveled at it and at how fast the water was flowing. We hauled it out, and did it again. And once more, for the heck of it. And then we continued on our walk. Coming back, we thought, what the heck, once more. In it went.
Trailing its string behind it.
I volunteered to go down and splash in the muck to where the duck was snagged on some grass. Which is how I found out that the bottom of that little stream was very slippery...and very muddy, too, as I plunged my watch-wearing hand down into the chilly water in an ultimately futile attempt to keep my balance.
Fortunately, I wasn't wearing my brand new jeans. I was, instead, wearing my almost brand new shorts. And an old pair of sneakers.
But we saved the duck.
1 comment:
If they weren't before, they sure are now.
Afterward, my daughter was quite sheepish, and I thought that she was afraid I was mad. Well, I was, a little, but I got over it pretty quickly. However, it turned out that while that was a concern of hers, what she was really thinking was that if I'd let her go after it (barefoot, since she was wearing blades at the time), she'd have gotten it without falling in. (This is a very shallow stream -- maybe 3 inches.) Who knows, maybe she would have - but if she had fallen in, I would have gone into Panic Mode Alpha. Getting wet and muddy was a cheap alternative.
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