taking turns, taking care

On the way home from school last week, in the alley behind our old house, I asked Tolliver not to step on my feet. He had on hiking boots and was happily stomping in puddles. {And also stepping on my heels.}  The snow melt was a welcome walking home distraction -- he hadn't asked for a snack or whined about how far we still had to go. I had worn my Uggs instead of my rain boots and the trek was soggier than I anticipated.

I explained that my Uggs kept my feet warm, but they weren't meant to get super wet. Or particularly muddy.
Tolliver looked up from the middle of a puddle and smiled at me.
Oh, but if you take care of them, they'll take care of you? So like if you don't step in puddles, your boots will keep you warm.
Right.
Like the world should be, if we take care of other people, they'll take care of us when we need it. Riiight.

We are all just taking turns walking each other home.

And suddenly I was wearing that smile he'd given me.