You curiously crouched down to look at something at your feet. With a small stick you poked the side of a slender slug. I was grateful you did not try to stomp on it like you have previously done. Promptly, it's motionless existence lost your interest and you trudged on, letting me know we were going this way.
Off the path was a mossy log that called to you for a relaxing break. With tongue-sticking-out determination, you braced yourself through the uneven, grassy terrain and positioned yourself next to the log. You paused to ponder some small mushrooms and turned your back. You comfortably sat and then called your dogs, inviting them to come and sit with you and enjoy your perch. Of course, I delighted in assisting in your idea so that I could take a picture of you and your beloved companions on your outing in the damp woods.
You asked me to sit with you. As I did, you looked around, contemplating the next interesting spot that you would explore. You decided to venture back into the woods themselves. You didn't make it far as the ground was tangled with rooted branches and tasseled grasses and provided too much resistance for your short little legs. So you turned back toward the easy path that had been trod down by many dogs and their owners and by outdoor joggers.
We approached civilization behind the natural canopy and I announced it was time to turn back the way we came. You grumbled at my request, as if it meant that our impromptu adventure was coming to an unfortunate end, even though we still had to backtrack all the way that we had come. I distracted you by showing you how the water was held so fragile in droplets on the greenery that hung by our faces. One by one, you reached out and gently touched a frail drop and watched it release from its perch into cool moisture that ran down your fingers.
You ardently called the older dog to share with her what now tickled your fingers. She sniffed and turned away uninterested, leaving a clump of damp fur on your hand. You repeatedly broke drops of water and insisted you share your experience with your four legged friend, until she was no longer willing to express curiosity in what little you had to offer.
Your legs became tired and you snuggled close into mom's side as you scanned the beautiful surroundings and breathed in the fresh air. You expressed concern at a fallen log that sprawled at an angle on the hillside. As we approached the vehicle your energy was suddenly renewed and you protested loudly. I placed you down and you sprightly ran along the dirt road, aiming for every puddle.
You waded out into a mud puddle so dirty that you could not see your shoes. You tested it with your hand, only to find it cold on your fingers. You stepped out and tossed in a few rocks, enjoying the splash. You decided to intensify the stir by kicking at the water. The dogs joined you in excitement as you stomped and kicked.
A passerby asked if you were having fun, to which you replied, no. She hoped that you would have some fun before you were done your task. We stepped off the road as a car approached. And then another. Then we were off walking once more. You took me down a side road, again announcing this way. Here, you decided to be carried again. We looked upon what had been a fire the night before, still containing a flicker of fire at its center. Litter was unfortunately scattered around the area. You pointed to a second spot where another fire pit had once been located.
You tried to play with a stick only to have it confiscated by a dog. You whined that it was yours and tried to follow him into the long grass to receive your prize. I reminded you how much both dogs loved sticks. I took your disquiet as an opportunity to bring an end to your damp venture. I scooped you into my arms and placed you in the truck. Inside I promptly turned on the heat as I removed your drenched pants and mud caked shoes. I put on dry pants and left them long over your feet as I had nothing extra to cover your damp, pink toes. You smiled contently at the completion of your adventure. You had climbed. You had sat. You had run. You had skipped. You had splashed.
We drove toward home along the bumpy road with the dogs happily running beside us. First, we stopped to let in the older before driving farther with the younger galloping along with his tongue hanging out. Then we collected him as well as we finished our outing. You asked me to turn up the fan and we enjoyed the hot air as we listened to music and returned to our base.
It didn't matter that the air wasn't warm or the sun didn't shine. It didn't matter that the ground was wet and slippery with mud. It didn't matter that we had no destination or goal. It didn't even matter that mom was still in her pajamas. What mattered is you spent time with mommy and your dogs. Outside.
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