Despite being nearly four before Duncan learned he actually enjoyed swimming, he has not budged one inch on his distaste for sprinklers or the fountain at the park. He has gone well out of his way, even on the hottest, most brittle of summer days, to stay away from the tiniest bit of spray or mist from the big sprinklers that cast their rainbows in the mornings and evenings when the sun is low on the horizon.
This morning, though, something changed. It was still cool and the shadows had only just begun to shorten when the sprinklers came on and caught us unaware. I expected Duncan to abandon his ball (and me) and run for cover as far away from moisture as possible, but instead he surprised me and sat right down in the middle of them, tilted his head back and smiled as he was soaked from nose to tail. After several minutes he managed to retrieve his ball only to want it thrown right back into the middle of the sprinklers. Surprised, I obliged and so we spent several long minutes enjoying the cool of the morning and the chik-chik-chik of the sprinklers washing back and forth over the grass, catching the sunlight and turning it silver as it rained down all around us.*