This is one of those stories which would be SO much more gratifying with pictures...but which would have been far less enjoyable to actually experience with the camera...so let's all just use our imaginations and get over it, m'kay?
It's hot this week. Very hot. And I've been canning, which makes me extra hot. And my kids have been sulking at my unavailability, which makes them extra bored. So I called a break mid-day and declared that we were going to play in the creek at a nearby park.
And that we'd take The Dog with us.
Then it started to rain. Oooooh-kay. Well, it was hot, and the rain felt refreshing, and heck—it's summer and it was barely drizzling. Surely it would let up soon. And if not, oh well. Extra cooling.
Triple hooray and let's GO already!
Needless to say, by the time we got to the park (a whole 2 miles from our house), it was pouring. It was dumping cats and dogs right on my kids and dog. And me. And this was Not going to stop us.
Well, it stopped C. He declared that he was Cold, and hid out under a picnic pavilion. The dog, however, delighted in trying to rip my arm from its socket as she charged through the creek. (Another sheltering family plus their dog meant that she was Not getting off the leash, alas.) T was laughing hysterically, and trying to get her to plunge into deeper water while she struggled to gain a foothold in the muddy bank. And remember, it's still raining. And raining and raining and raining. T and I were soaked. The dog was a gleeful mess, and she clumsily Splooshed in the water with her oversized feet, leaving T and I with the gut-wrenching giggles.
We had a good time.
Until the thunder. Then we all piled into the van and came home. We dried off, shared a big bowl of popcorn (and oh yes we shared with The Dog), and watched some PBS kids together.
That was WAY more fun than peeling a half-bushel of pears and folding the laundry.