Every Backyard is an Adventure: The Big Stream

We had a little spring in our backyard. Several times a week we made the trek downstream, between backyards, through the three-foot drainage pipe, over the innumerable boulders and logs, and around or through the plentiful briars and brush to the big stream. We made a game of trying to stay dry. We pretended that the water was acid and that getting our feet wet would kill us. We sometimes made it halfway down before we ended up getting our shoes completely covered in mud and water. But we would finally get down to the confluence of the two unnamed streams where we hopped from one rock to another and searched for sticks that looked like swords.

We dueled with wooden swords. We hit each other with wooden swords. We cursed at each other. We bruised. We were well out of sight of the nearest houses that were perched on high, steep hills flanking both sides of the stream, so we were in a dangerous wilderness where we needed sticks as defense from some unidentified threat (probably our favorite little monster the kobold).

On the few occasions that we saw other people (usually teenagers lightin' up), we felt compelled to hide because people in the wilderness are always there to kill or maim you. When we hid, I was always breathing heavy and afraid the noise from my panting would give us away--I wasn't the most athletic kid. As we lay flat on the ground, motionless, beside a rotten log, the dry leaves rustled at each fast breath. When we got home, we would get in trouble for getting our shoes wet.

Why do kids get in trouble for getting their shoes wet?