Too Deep

“It’s not deep,” the oldest brother claimed as he stepped into the puddle. Mud squelched between his toes. Per usual, he didn’t notice, but the middle brother did.

This one grimaced. “If it’s not deep, why can we only see grass around the edges?”

“And where did our ball go?” the youngest added, peeking around his safe, second brother.

Now nearly to his knees in the water, the first deflected their arguments with a wave. “The ball’s hiding because it doesn’t want to play with you sissies anymore.”

“And the grass?”

“Grandpa has secret little bald spots. Don’t you think the earth has ’em, too?”

The middle brother crossed his arms, but before he could reply, the oldest disappeared with a mighty splash. Seconds rolled on, kneading into minutes. What was a second brother to do? He couldn’t swim to save his life, let alone anyone else’s. That was why he had called over the oldest in the first place. Maybe if he grabbed a big stick and poked the puddle…

A hand shot above the surface, clutching a shiny red ball. As it glided toward the puddle’s edge, it rose, joined by a head, then shoulders, and finally the rest of the oldest’s body.

He tossed the ball at his siblings. “Do not lose it again.”

The second brother handed the prize to the youngest and trailed the first. “It was deep.”

“Nah, I just did that to scare you mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Because all you did was stand there.” He stomped through the waving grass, soaked and jaw clenched so his teeth wouldn’t chatter.

“That’s a stupid thing to do on purpose,” the youngest said too quietly for the oldest to hear.

The second placed his hand atop the littlest’s head. “Yeah, but stupid comes with brave sometimes, and I envy him the latter.