href=”https://wordjotter.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/imagescas8r7zd.jpg”> The sipper cup
Her ponytail swayed as she ran past me, a white dog trailed her with tongue protruding. It was unable to maintain her speed. It was a steaming hot day in Rome and the towering trees did little to shade the number of people here for their Sunday in the park outing. We’d had to park miles away today and my toddler’s legs barely made the journey to the park. Now, she was hot and bothered and guzzling on her sipper cup of water. ‘More, more, Mamma’, she lamented as she tipped her cup upside down with the proof that there really was nothing left inside.
I picked her up and walked further on to find a water fountain. Water ran freely in Rome, the fountains always offering gushing water for anyone. I saw one up ahead. I knew it was a fountain by the number of thirsty tourists who had planted themselves on top of it, wetting their faces and hair. No Italian would act in that manner. An Italian would either bring their own cup or elegantly cup their hands to receive the water. We stood in the queue while the tourists frollicked under the spout, their clothing was wringing wet as they enjoyed their game. A passerby shouted as a shower soaked his joggers, ‘Hey, basta delinquenti’. I’m sure the tourists appreciated being called delinquents! I chuckled to myself. I imagined when I was a carefree tourist I was doing the same. After all it was stinking hot and the water was free…
Now that I’d grown up and had my own child to look after, I waited patiently in the line, had to set a good example.
Finally we refilled the cup and lasted another hour at the park before my toddler was far too hungry and tired to stay any longer; her curly locks sticking to her forehead.
As we made our way to the gates of Villa Doria Pamphili people lay snoozing in the shade, joggers continued their run and panting dogs wanted to go home too.