Today I had a *moment* with my babies. My 9 year old daughter had to go to a pond or stream or marsh to collect a sample of the water along with an insect or fish. I drove to the small body of water I knew nearby and five of us walked over to the water.

Everyone was enthralled by the sound of the running water. We were in the middle of the city, but the sound of that creek was soothing, transporting the four children and myself to another place. My 9 year old later said the water looked so clear that she wanted to taste it.

I knew I wanted to keep the baby and the 5 year old away from the edge, since neither one of them swims. And, while I didn’t want the 9 year old to fall in either, I was much less scared to have her go closer to the water, because she is a swimmer.

She confidently walked down the bank to the big rock right by the side and reached down to get some water. Her arms were almost too short, but she managed to get a little water. It looked pretty clear to my naked eye. I suggested we cross the street to see if it would be easier to get closer on the other side.

The water across the street was still, and we could get closer. I was still really cautious with the non-swimmers, and while the two girls that swim talked big about crossing the water and getting close on the other side, in the end, I convinced them to stay where we knew it was safe, and my daughter procured a plant and a strainer of pond scum.

We brought it all home and attempted to study it. We saw some cool stuff in the microscope, but it wasn’t from the water. It was what was already on the microscope. After I cleaned it, we didn’t see anything.

But the memory of that short trip to the creek lingered. Ever so often, my 9 year old would sigh that she’d like to go back there some day.