I took Isaiah to the park this evening, trying to take advantage of the 74 degree evening. We lapped the empty baseball diamond as I showed him how to hit a homer, run the bases, and jump up and down at home plate. He giggled furiously.

He got so hyper so started running away from me, in ecstacy, squealing all the way. He got a little far from me and I noticed he was heading toward a grass puddle of rain water. I started after him, “ISAIAH!” I called, but, thinking this is more baseball fun, starts running even faster away from me.

In my attempt to grab him before he hit the puddle, I myself find myself falling, ass on the ground, then on my right side, sliding 3 feet in a mud pile of God only knows what. Involuntarily I yell SHIT as I look at my work clothes now caked in mud.

Isaiah just looked at me with big eyes, “Home?”

It takes a village, people…