Water is the calm of a stream, the patter of rain on a skylight, the roar of a waterfall—and my total loss of emotional control when my socks hit a stray puddle on my floor.
I literally lose my mind when I step into a puddle while wearing only socks. My boyfriend can attest to this—the king of water messes has heard it more than once. But now it’s my daughter, the queen of the MEGA water mess, who’s putting me through the daily nightmare of stepping into a puddle.
Babies love to explore, discover, and knock over just about everything in their path. My daughter discovered the joys of water the day her little hands reached the handles of the water dispenser… which she emptied onto the floor while admiring the beauty of the water flowing in all its glory. I realized it far too late, of course—she was soaked from head to toe, and my floor looked like the St. Lawrence River (minus the sketchy stuff… anyway). I laughed… for the first and last time.
In my naivety, I told myself she’d gotten the hang of it, that this little game wouldn’t interest her any more than that fleeting adventure.
Wrong.
Since then, there have been towels full of water, cups of water, stuffed animals full of water, bags filled with water, soaked shoes… But above all, MY FEET DOWN IN THE WATER!
I’m in a never-ending nightmare of puddles. How does she manage to do this without me seeing her? A water-damage ninja, a puddle magician. I thought I was losing my mind, I thought I was going crazy, my wet feet searching for a nonexistent pair of dry socks. My sanity was on the verge of being committed to a mental hospital against my will, and then suddenly… summer!
She’s playing outside! Still with water, but outside! No more water on my floor, on my rugs—the water’s outside! My socks are dry! In my drawer (it’s summer… long live bare feet), but dry!
I’m slowly regaining control of myself—and control of the water level in the washing machine. I walk without worrying about tomorrow. I’m saved… until winter…