Day Eighteen: The Puddle

“Oh no!”

Emory looked down at her dress, now covered in mud, then up at me, tears in her eyes.

I felt like crying at her tears.

She had slipped, that’s all. The ground was slippery from the rain, and she had been singing away, not paying a bit of attention. She hadn’t even seen the end of the sidewalk and stepped right into the mud puddle, falling instantly to her knees as a reflex.

I wanted to explain to her that that was my fault, that we could wash her dress before her mother found out and was harsh to her, that it was just an accident.

But the words seemed lodged in my throat as I looked at her terrified, teary face. And the words that threatened to come out instead had more to do with Emory’s mother being cruel for instilling such fear into her daughter over a dress than with comforting Emory.

Before I could say or do anything, Bird took one look at Emory’s scared eyes and, without a moment’s hesitation, jumped into the puddle herself, ruining her own dress.

Both girls stood for a moment just staring at each other.

“Already ruined them now,” Bird said, looking down at her dress. “Might as well have some fun!”

With that, she grabbed a pile of mud and threw it at Emory’s stomach.

For a split second, none of us moved. Then Emory blinked and a smile began to form on her tear-stricken face. Then a soft giggle. Then a full-on laugh.

Without another hesitation, Emory reached down and pictked up a mud pile herself, throwing it at Bird. Bird shrieked in delight, then began splashing Emory with the muddy water.

I stood watching them for a moment, trying to remind myself that I was a respectable, dignified, professional, adult father.

And then I jumped into to the puddle.

I lunged at Bird and Emory, taking them both down with me, all trepidation drowned out by the pearls of laughter.

“Da, Da!” Bird screamed. “Catch, Da!’

I turned just in time to get a mudcake square in my face.

Both girls froze.

I ran my hands across my face, smearing the mud.

“Oh, it’s on now!” I cried, grabbing two handfuls and dumping them on Emory and Bird’s heads, smearing it into their hair. “That’s a good look for you two.”

Bird shrieked again good-naturedly and Emory just grinned as the mud ran down the back of her neck.

“All right,” I said a few minutes and splashes later. “I guess we should get cleaned up before your mom picks you up, Em.”

I grabbed both girls’ hands and lead them back towards my apartment, smiling.