One of the gifts children give to their parents, I've decided, is their utterly unpredictable memory. On the one hand, the Kid has been noting for weeks that "the water is on" every single time we drive by the fountain in our main city park. On the other hand, when we finally walked up to the fountain--properly attired and with nothing else to do that afternoon--he approached it with trepidation.
He splashed one foot in gingerly. "Is this really ok?" I could see him thinking. "Is she really going to let me get as wet as I want to?" While he remembered last year's trips to the fountain enough to know it was something fun, he had forgotten that it's also a place where mama banishes the words "dry" and "clean" from her vocabulary.
I smiled. He splashed a littler harder. I laughed. He jumped down hard with both feet, and began running circles in the water. I plunked down in the grass, relaxed. And enjoyed a nice half an hour watching my boy remember how to play in the fountain.