Poor Judah

It had been a pretty normal day at home and as I 'woke' the kids up from their 'naps' to go get Micah from school I didn't expect anything out of the ordinary. Maybe I had forgotten for a second which children I am mothering. I do this often, expect a normal outing, and get one that, well, is not normal for everyone who does not live in this house.

While driving the van to school I admired the melting snow, the piles that were slowly starting to shrink lower than 5 feet, and the fact that I could see a tiny bit of grass underneath the trees. I failed to factor in one element of this blissful spring day.

When 5 feet of snow melts it creates a spectacle that no four year old boy can resist.

Puddles.

Yes, Puddles. And lots of them. Maybe in hindsight I should have looked harder for his rubber boots this morning, but even they could not have prevented the coming spectacle.

As we headed to Micah's school door Judah gleefully ran through the melting snow piles and jumped through the many puddles. Up his pant legs went the ice cold water and his mother may have said something like this:
"Judah, even though you have your snow boots on you are not wearing the right pants and clothes for jumping in the puddles, please stop before you get soaking wet."

But like four year old boys everywhere nothing could convince him that jumping in the puddles may not be the best way to spend his time.

We reached Micah's door, I began to pretend that I know the names of the mothers waiting there, and have some kind of conversation with them. Judah and Aslynn, not being interested in the mother's conversation, flitted away to the playground. I didn't even care. Outdoors, nice warm weather, a little running around for Judah, none of these are bad things.

All of a sudden across the playground we all hear a wailing coming forth from one of the children playing. Mother's all around are craning their heads to make sure that their precious offspring are okay. I glance over and see Judah coming across the playground wailing at the top of his lung. As the mother's try to figure out which child it is, I speed across the playground to console my poor obviously hurt child,   I stand in one place watching my wailing (overreacting) son coming towards me. Only when he gets closer do I realize his problem.

He is soaking wet.

SOAKING!!

Pants, boots, coat, hands, face, hair.

Soaking wet and freaking out, because apparently the newly melted snow is cold. COLD.

I try, with no luck, to dry my poor sons face. Finally the grandfather next to me hands me a piece of paper towel from his pocket. I dry the poor guys face and try to figure out what happens.

It seems the excited boy ran to the playground and headed for the most exciting thing ever. The slide. Except at the bottom of the slide there seems to be a puddle just large enough to swallow a four year old. Off the slide Judah came and landed right in the boy swallowing puddle.

I remove his jacket hoping that he will be warmer only to discover that his shirt is soaked as well. I'm assuming that the force of him landing in the water splashed it up and under his jacket and down his pants.
So there I stand waiting for Micah, with a soaking wet Judah, who's not wearing a jacket, and is crying like the world has ended.

(How dare that puddle attack him, did the puddle not know that Judah was a friend???)

I think briefly to myself that he may stop crying sooner if I picked him up, but I REALLY don't want to even touch the child.

As Micah comes out the door wondering why his brother is crying, jacket less, and soaking wet, I gather my little ducklings and try to head for the van.

Only, I guess being cold, and wet, and mad at the puddles makes you unable to walk.

So I take off my jacket, wrap it around Judah and pick him up to carry. Except he is dripping on my pants, and my shirt, and my arms. I try to carry him in a different position, but he is armless, as they are tucked into my coat. It's like trying to carry a swaddled, fresh wet out of the bathtub 45lb baby.

We finally make it to the van. I'm wet now too. I may also be laughing A LOT.

I put Judah down and place my jacket over his seat so that it doesn't get to wet. Judah tries to convince me that being wet means that he can't sit in his car seat and instead must ride on my lap.

Like I want that large puddle sitting on my lap all the way home.

Into the car seat he goes.

Where he proceeds to give me pitiful eyes while asking if I can take off his boots.

I pull of the first boot and am surprised by a river of water pouring out of it. A second river accompanies the second boots. Wringing out the socks is similar to wringing out a dish cloth fresh out of the sink.

Micah and I may have been laughing more.

Judah on the other hand is extremely perturbed that we are laughing at him. He repeatedly tells us that, "It's NOT funny." But alas, it is.

We arrive home where I strip my poor son naked, put cozy pajama's on him, and throw some extra wet things in the dryer.

Tomorrow morning when he wakes up everything will be dry and there will be new puddles to conquer.