After our Bagels With ButterTM on Sunday morning, Robert got it into his head that he and I had to gallop around the block. Not run or skip, mind you, but gallop. I made a few attempts to look cool and merely run behind him, because let's face it: I'm all about the cool. But each time Robert caught me slacking off, he launched a stiff rebuke. ("C'mon, Daddy! You have to gallop! Like a horse!") So I galloped. Like a horse.
As we neared the clubhouse turn, though, Robert's sandal caught the sidewalk and he fell forward, lightly abrading his knees. All I had with me was a bottle of water, so I opened it and rinsed off his boo-boos. Before long, the water puddled at his feet and ran in little rivulets toward the curb. And Robert pointed and said, "Hey Daddy! That looks just like dog pee!"
