Full disclosure: a week ago, I didn't own rainboots. Last Sunday after the adventure I am about to describe, I took off my wet boots, made some tea and bought a pair of rainboots online. I want to be prepared for next time. My friend A. and her son P. came over to checkout my apartment, have a coffee and explore the Sunday morning Farmer's Market. Now I don't know P. very well. He's three and a bit, I think. A. told me and I've already forgotten. The first time I met him, he was tiny and spent the better part of a mutual friend's wedding sleeping in a car-seat-baby-carrier-basket-thing. Since moving back to Seattle, I've seen him a couple of times but he was a little shy or maybe just preoccupied playing with toys and friends his own age. Now a general rule of thumb, kids like me and I like them but for whatever reason P. and I hadn't clicked. Things changed after our coffee and hot chocolate at Cafe Besalu. First stop: construction site. Second stop: QFC. Third stop: Bike rack. Fourth stop: Ballard Farmer's Market including buying purple potatoes and carrying them around in a paper bag, some street musicians, a sign and a curb.   Fifth stop: The same bike rack as in Stop #3. This little kid is Seattle to the core. He didn't even notice the rain and kept shouting with glee after jumping in puddles: I got water in my boots! For P. this was a very happy moment because it signaled what a big jump he'd had. He did it again and again. So I took picture after picture. A. stood by watching this scene.