Damp, muddy, frisbee day
With morning rush and evening slogs, it’s rarely possible on weekdays for a little indulgence—be it cycling, running, or letting your frisbee go flying—with kids.
Our regular haunt for flying frisbees is the open football field—a few hundred yards from our place. It’s technically possible to play in the backyard, and we often do, except that we can’t let that plastic disc go flying as high as we’d much like it to. And we’ve already lost one good frisbee, and nearly another to the thick foliage and an inaccessible canal flowing behind our fence.
I dragged myself from bed early this morning, just so I could keep my promise. We arrived at the football field only to be dismayed—to see it soaked damp, and muddy from the morning dew and last evening’s game of cricket.
We played a just bit before the sandy, muddy frisbee began hurting our cold numb hands, and soiling our clothes. In the end, we quit. Lesson learnt: never go on a damp, muddy Sunday morning for flying frisbees.