As a child I believed there was a bogeyman under my bed, and so on going to bed at night would turn out the light and sprint for the bed, jumping the last yard so that he would not grab my ankles. My parents laughed at my silliness, and my elder brothers teased me mercilessly, but I knew – he lay there waiting for me.
Then on my 12th birthday I decided that it was high time I stopped this childish silliness. Bedtime came and I turned the light out, walking slowly towards the bed, pausing before taking that final step, waiting, listening to the creaky dark that surrounded me, while a thin shaft of light from the hallway illuminated my way.
Then, bravely, closing my eyes, I stepped forward.
I still believe there is a bogeyman under my bed, and though he doesn’t think I’m as tender and juicy as I might have been, he says I will do.
I am a firm believer that the family who prays together stays together. I know its a corny saying, but it is true, so I encourage my children to pray before they go to bed, at mealtimes, and whenever there is a need.
Angelica however does not want to pray; I don’t what it is, but try as we will she refuses point blank to pray. My wife thought she might be possessed but I told her not to be silly, that this house was under the protection of the Almighty.
Then today, at Thanksgiving, with all the extended family gathered around, she astonishingly began to say grace: “Dear Lord, thank you for the food you give us, and the nice things you give us, and Lord, please provide clothes for the children in Africa, and all those naked ladies on Daddy’s computer.”
We love the rain, my daughter and I, particularly when the heavens really let loose and the resulting deluge causes lots of puddles to be formed.
Yes, we are puddle jumpers, and the minute the rain clears a little, sometimes not even then, we will be out there with our Wellington boots and coats, racing like like the little children we are from puddle to puddle and jumping into them; the aim? to SPLASH!!
It is great fun and I would say you should try it, but I don’t puddle jump any more.
I remember it vividly like a recurring nightmare, that fateful day when we were happily puddle jumping, my dearest daughter and I, and we found a most splendid puddle just down the road from us, where the storm drains had apparently blocked.
My little girl ran on ahead and jumped with glee into the middle of the puddle, and disappeared, never to be seen again.
Oh I ran after her and dove into the puddle, only to find it was no more than 20 inches deep, the perfect puddle for jumping, except that it is no fun jumping alone.