Saturday, May 30, 2009

It MUST Be Summer in WIchita . . .

It is in the 90s today. 93, to be exact. Hot. Very hot. Swamp-crotch hot! I'm not digging it one little bit. The bidds? She's LOVING it. We hit the fountains in Old Town this afternoon and she whooped it up with some fellow kids in heat-beat mode.

I sat and watched Ava play in the water and realized that there is something magical about being a child. I won't turn this in to a love request on the Delilah show about how the mystery of God's love shines in their eyes (or whatever) but - let's be honest.

Save for Johnny Knoxvillle and his band of merry Jackasses, there is not a person in the world over the age of about 12 that would run around (SOBER), in public, in nothing but a bathing suit and CROCS jumping in and out of water fountains and screaming in delight as the jets pop up in their face. Hair all damp (but not really wet). The wet concrete downright slippery. The people walking by stopping to watch just long enough to remark how crazy it is that kids will run around in public like that.

Ava played for about 45 minutes in the water. She shared her beachball. She squealed and laughed and chased. She introduced herself to other kids and she had a grand, grand, unabashedly good time. I sat - 20 feet away - snapping pictures and keeping my short-wearning legs strategically crossed to block the horror that is my left calf from the women and children that were walking about.

At least I was wearing shorts, I guess. That speaks to my lowering level of self-loathing (in terms of my appearance (smile)).

I hope that Ava spends the next 30 straight summers running in those fountains (if not swimming in the many, many pools of Wichita or wherever she's living by 30 years from now) and I hope she never loses the freedom of unabashed, unashamed joy that allows her to just have fun like that in a public place.

She can and SHOULD lose the Crocs though. Sooner than later, frankly (smile)!

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