Jacob In Puddles

 

RUN!  

There went Jacob!

RUN!

There went Lilly!

RUN.  Grandma, you'd better run.  

After them I went, not wanting any to get smashed by an unseen car.  Lilly was a good helper, she stopped her brother.

"Jacob, NO!" in her young girl voice, and like the stop arm of a school bus her right arm went out to stall him.

And he did.

Not for long.

Right behind them, I said, "It's okay now!"  

"ZOOM!" they were off!  To the truck.  But first?  A little side detour.

You see it had rained.

And there were puddles outside of the restaurant in the paved parking lot.

And like his father 32 years ago, the boy veered straight to the first puddle.  

We have proof.  Jacob's father, Clint, is seen on an old VHS tape, as a short, chubby toddler in a blue coat walking along the top of a mound of dirt where his grandpa had been selling topsoil.  The cameraman was Clint's uncle, and he said, "Don't walk in the puddles!" And immediately, Clint walked in the puddles!

"Stay out of the puddles!"  Nope.  Not Jacob.

Jacob tromped right through the first one and went headlong into the next one.  With a train piece in his right hand, he turned around, raised both arms to the sky and did a victory jump.

"Yay, I did it!"

"I like to get one, two puddles!"