So Liv and I were visiting our friend and we all decided to go on a walk. Simple. Normal activity. Normally it feels like the whole state is on a massive vaporizer with the humidity but the skies were blue and it was deodorant defying warm. We started out and walked and walked and walked (feel free to sing along). The pioneers would have been proud even though we had only made it 3 blocks when all of a sudden there was a slight sprinkle. So slight you couldn't be sure if someone had sneezed on you or if it had come out of a spray bottle from the sky, so we paid no attention and kept walking until all of a sudden it was like a giant water balloon in heaven exploded and it was pouring. It was still so warm that it was befuddling but it did not relent and we were 3 blocks away from any form of shelter. I had no choice. I did the only logical thing and put Liv under my shirt like a mother kangaroo would do for her joey (that's what you call baby kangaroos) and ran as fast as I could in the pouring rain the whole way back.
Well, lets just say people were staring from their windows as we sloshed our way home. The funny part is that she was didn't cry or fuss at all, but the jostling from the run in the monsoon caused her head to keep popping up from the soaking shade shirt like some sort of "miracle of life" birth in reverse. Every time her soaked little cranium would pop up, I would put it back down until we finally arrived at shelter.
I haven't read a lot of parenting books but I'm fairly sure this isn't recommended. I was trying to be resourceful. As I sprinted up the streets I could not stop laughing. I just thought that in heaven when we get to see the movie of our lives, I definitely want to rewatch this scene in slow motion. I don't know all the decisions and turning points in my life that have led me to be running like a mothering fugitive with my baby water suctioned like a river reverse papoose, on the streets of West Virginia but I love my life.