You’d be forgiven for thinking that August is not exactly the ideal month for puddle jumping. It’s really sort of an Autum/Winter/Spring kind of activity when you think about it.
But that would be reckoning without my smallest daughter (and the always obliging British weather). Wherever there’s a puddle, there you will find Elma, I think she must have some sort of radar for them, however tiny. And if she can fit two tiny feet inside it then she’ll splash until the puddle is all gone.
There’d been a little shower an hour or so before we went to the park, but this was all that was left, a tiny dimple in the pavement no bigger than her shoes, but clearly it was enough. She was so utterly in the moment, totally absorbed in her puddle, to the very great amusement of everyone else that walked past us!
And one of the loveliest things about it being summer, and being on maternity leave, is that the pressure to be somewhere, to get something done, to be on top of absolutely everything, just seems to fade away a little, and we can simply stand and watch a little girl enjoy herself in the simplest of simple pleasures.
Though somehow, looking out of the window this morning, I rather think that we might have some more puddles for someone to splash in before too long – and we might need to buy some bigger wellies!