Today yielded the perfect equation for puddle jumping joy. There was a high of 47 degrees Fahrenheit, sunshine, and a lot of snow beginning to melt.
As the day progressed, the puddles became increasingly impressive.
My daughter wakes from her afternoon nap and her first thought is, “Let’s go puddle jumping!”
“Sure, why not. The floors will need to be done anyway.” (It’s been about a month…yikes!)
Here begins our adventure. We get on our gear and head outside to where the fun awaits. She is timid at first. There are no jumps, but taps rather. She is exploring this adventure, testing it out, unsure of how this will go. As she becomes more familiar with the pools of water, once snow, her timidness turns to boldness. Suddenly I hear tremendous splashing. I look over and see that she has drops of mud on her face, her outdoor gear is now soaked, and she is wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen across her sweet face.
This will be the image etched in my mind as I get down on my hands and knees and tackle the long, over-due task of washing the floors.