I dug back through some of my old pictures this weekend and found one of the creek just ¼ mile up the road from our house. It reminded me of all the scavenger hunts my brother and I went on when we were young(er) and stayed with my grandparents. Maybe that was just Grandma’s ploy to get us out of the house and out of her hair – either way, it was fun!

My son is 4 ½ now and really getting to the adventurous stage. If there’s a mud puddle, it’s been splashed; if there’s a dirt hill, it’s been climbed; if there’s a charged up battery, it’s been driven. Bad thing is, his favorite dirt pile is right at the edge of this creek where, if he’d slip and fall, he just might end up tumbling down a 20-foot embankment through sticks and thorns and into the creek. I keep telling myself I can’t protect him from everything, but I try.

When there’s a garter snake in the creek, it’s just irresistible to throw rocks. And in order to do that, don’t you have to be as close as possible?

Again, there’s that 20-foot (did I say steep?) bank!

Maybe I ought to teach him the safest way to get down to the creek. That would satisfy both of our wants. And while I’m at it, I’ll teach him that his muddy boots are supposed to keep the water OUT.

Until we walk again …