Thanks to Rhonda for allowing us to share this story!
I’m standing in the playground with sheets and bands of rain crashing around me. My 1995 oversized, faded blue gortex jacket is doing its best to repel the tablespoon sized rain drops that are successfully soaking into my 2nd layer of protective clothing. My jeans that are exposed between the space at the top of my florescent green rain boots and where my trusty rain coat goes down to my mid-thigh, are now drenched from the walk from the preschool door to where I am now standing. The children are all buzzing about, busy, playing, calling each other. I stare at the climber, specifically the top platform, the steering wheel and the two blue plastic slides. I wonder if I can somehow turn the wooden structure into a boat if need be. Removing the slide and reattaching it to the sides like pontoons might allow the structure to float once the ground becomes so saturated with rain that the cement pilings holding it down simply begin to float like pieces of driftwood in the soon to be lake that was once our playground. Can I fit all the children onto it? Does that steering wheel actually work? My thoughts and plans are quickly shifted to the small child who is now standing at my side holding an empty, red bucket. “TEACHER!” he exclaims. “Can you get the hose out? I need some water!!”