It was such a rainy day. Everything was wet. Mica the cat was wet. The stairs were wet.
The Janitor stood by the door to the daycare. He looked angrier by the second. The kids walked past.
All dripping. Water and mud. Because there is nothing better in this world than jumping in a puddle. From afar. With a running start. Like "Watch out Štefek, watch this." "It's coming right now." And then you run, and you jump, and you fly. And the water splashes. Bravo!!! Bravo Bozo. Biggest splash ever.
But there is mud in the puddle. And the mud splashes, in a big muddy arc all around. The wall next to the puddle is soaked with muddy water. One big splash. And if you look at it like that, that stain, it looks like the Janitor. You have to close your eyes a little, squint just right, lean to the left, and tilt your head just a little to the right ... here you go. Janitor. Hat, mustache, wrinkles. Janitor. No doubt.
It don't matter none what Bozo has on his feet that day. Mama will yell. Yeah, I know, I mean yellow boots are the best. But the water doesn’t pick winners, as long as it splashes right. New sneakers, old sneakers, barefoot. What a good idea – barefoot. And if it isn’t too cold, Bozo takes his shoes off, rolls off his socks, and steps in the water. Mud squeezes through his toes. It's smooth. Soft. Good, well-settled mud. River bank quality mud. The best.
And then — a race into daycare with Štefek. Bozo won, around the corner, up the stairs, almost through the door.
"Stooop!" he cries,
Janitor upset,
Bozo turning,
Štefek bolting,
steaming past.
"Bozo, Bozo, Bozo ... what are you doing? Come on now – look at this mess. I scrubbed it all this morning. Scrubbed it up, and down, and left and right. And now you go clop clop clop. Mud mud mud." The Janitor turns toward the hallway, points his hand and ... and ... AND .... "Whaaaaat?". Footprints all the way, down the hall. Long strides. Štefek was long gone.
Bozo sneaks around the Janitor. Real slow, behind his back. Janitor left, Bozo right. Janitor right, Bozo left. Janitor forward, Bozo behind him. "Boy, where you at?". And Bozo, on the other side, at the top of his lungs: "Mister Mopster!" and then full speed down the hall. Shlap shlap shlap went the shoes, squelch squelch squelch stuck the soles. If you were artsy, you'd say Bozo made some real fancy tracks. The kind meant for the doctor.
What do you mean for the doctor?
You know. When you go to the doctor for your check-up and the doctor says, "Well Bozo, how's that flat-foot of yours?" And then you gotta take two steps forward and back. "Hold still." "Shoulders up." But Bozo is already stiff as a board. Like a pine tree. Like a broom. The Janitor's broom! And then you gotta step on some wet rag, then on the floor, and you leave tracks. And the doctor says – "well Bozo, it's a bit better, but you gotta walk barefoot more."
See, and then the Janitor wonders why you walk barefoot in a puddle.
It’s just what the doctor ordered.