We just got home.
Today is Little J’s Birthday. He turned five. When I asked him this morning how it feels to be five he said: ‘Just perfect.’
This whole week has been hectic. So while he was in preschool I figured it was my only chance to squeeze in a run. I cut my riding short, rushed home from the farm, left the dog on the porch, changed into running gear and drove to the beach. I run in a rather remote area, on a trail.
As I was parking it started pouring down. Full blown storm. High winds and all. I ran for 30 minutes and I was soaked. Luckily I keep my sweats in the car so I changed quickly and had a couple of minutes to kill before picking my boy from school.
I was fiddling with my phone, as you might expect, when I heard a loud knock on my minivan’s very steamed up window. It was a police officer wondering if everything was OK.
He must have believed me, red in my face from both the run and sheer embarrassment, trying to explain how I just finished my run. Specially since I was wearing perfectly dry clothes. Suppose it is better then knocking two minutes earlier, finding me pantless in the back seat.
Happy Birthday my sweet son, at least you one of us is perfect…