It started out innocently enough, as all water fights do. While I washed the car, the boys were very judiciously scrubbing the chassis of their bikes clean.
They made trips back and forth to their bucket with sponges loaded to soak the bikes and shine things up.
Except on one trip someone got a drop on them. A few trips later someone would be splashed. A few trips later a retaliatory spray was issued for the infraction.
Instead of refereeing, I put my wallet and phone safely in the garage and sneaked around to one side of the house totally soaking Charlie.
And then it was on.
We raced back and forth, I grabbed water squirters, they tossed sponges at me and we splashed, giggled, and enjoyed a spontaneous summer moment.
And then I went and grabbed my phone again and shot a little bit of video with the water squirter pretending it was a First Person Shooter game. It was fun, until I reached the back fence gate where the boys had left a hose running, waiting to trap me.
Our clothes were soaked – every good water fight is done in street clothes, not swimmies. I pulled popsicles from the freezer, we rang out our socks, and we congratulated each other on a battle well fought as the bikes remained upside down in the driveway only half cleaned.