There is a house across the road and down the way that has a massive landscape-fountain in the backyard.
Opal and I walk passed it almost every day; it's part of our morning ritual. Even on days we want to head the opposite direction, we still casually swing by the fountain first as if we just happened to be in the neighborhood.
Wadoo wadoo wadoo Opal chants as we make our way there. Passed the house that, last summer, had raspberry branches hanging well over the fence and onto the sidewalk. Passed the little yippy dog that's the color of an unwashed gym-shirt. Passed the crayon-yellow Volkswagen Bug that we adjust our hats in the reflection of.
It's a lovely fountain, to be sure. So captivating it's able to distract Opal long enough to clip her fingernails. I envision us making tracks in that direction for many months to come.
Yesterday we were climbing into the car, which I had parked it on the street. It was raining—a Pacific-Northwest kind of day—and there were tiny rivers rushing down the sides of the street between the cars and the curb. Opal's car seat is on the passenger side and as I fumbled to unlock the door, she noticed the water-show and made her arms and legs rigid so I couldn't get her through the car door without a strategy. Once in her car-seat, she refused to sit down so she could continue to look over the side and out the door to the water that coursed down below.
Wadoo! Wadoo! She pleaded, meaning for the love all all that's good in my tiny baby-world, I want to look at the wadoo!
Tell me, how could I argue this? The comforting gurgling noise of the babbling street-brook, brimming with swirling strains of iridescent motor oil, suddenly seemed pretty damn appealing to me, too. Not to mention the fact that water was actually falling directly out of the sky and on to mommy's head! From behind a baby-lens, who in their right-mind would dare to suggest that this panorama should ever shift?
And yet, forward-movement needed to intervene once again.
Momma was getting soaked and we still had to stop by the post office before meeting some friends in Boulder for dinner. Even after spending ample time observing, Opal met the inevitable scene-change with great resistance. Thankfully the car was stocked with smiley-faced stickers, used shamelessly as bribery for this very thing, which were accompanied by a rousing rendition of Olde MacDonald (ducks!) to help us get back on the road.