Joel might have come along but he was busy digging out his lawnmower that had been buried months ago and no one knew where (how did we miss getting it into the shed before the first big storm?) I advised the boys to wear junky clothes and old shoes as I knew with all the melting snow there was certain to be puddles. And I knew there might be some venturing off the yellow brick road say, into the woods or the like.
Sam either didn't hear me or he thought donning his Heelys would facilitate the long walk. Anyway, he didn't do what I told him. And when we got here, he was not about to wreck his favorite footwear. He back-tracked and took a different route while Jack and I jumped and sloshed our way through the 3-inches of water.
Notice he did obey when it came to putting on grubby pants.
For some reason I still can't fully explain, this scenario struck me as hilarious. Maybe it was that Sam doesn't usually take risks. Maybe it was that he rarely is dirty or messy. Maybe it's that he had just spent a great deal of effort avoiding a few puddles to keep his toes dry. Maybe it was the look of shock mixed with chagrin on his face. I don't know, but instead of comforting or thinking of the next step to take, I laughed. And laughed. I would get nice for a couple seconds when I saw his dismay, and then it would strike me again. Jack laughed too, but I knew I had crossed the line when even he told me to stop.
It was so cute to see him explaining his plight.
Here Jack got tickled again as he heard him recount the experience. And then as we waited the 10 minutes for Mark and Joel to meet us with dry clothes and a towel, Sam became a miserable frozen popsicle. He shivered and shook and urged Mark to arrive.
When we got home, he ran upstairs to get a long hot shower and I started the preparations for our pizza with a smile still on my face.