I nearly stayed out of the river because I didn't want wet socks - but I think I'm learning

I took my daughter down to the river to play with stones as we've done all summer. She's at an age where something as simple as picking up a stone, examining it, putting it down and finding another can hold her attention for hours. There is never a particular objective, we were there as always to just play.

Throughout the summer we'd go in bare feet. The water would be warm-ish, and she'd enjoy the sensation of a river's motion against her legs. Now it's October, and it's very cold.

I was wearing trainers and socks, and I didn't want to get them wet.

It seems a ridiculous thing to write down, but that was genuinely what was going through my head. I was looking at the water and the stones, thinking about how I could avoid stepping into it.

And then I remembered something.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a field note about walking into a storm with a friend. We deliberately went out into torrential rain, and I noticed that almost all the discomfort came in the first few minutes. Not from being wet, but from becoming wet. Once we were soaked, the problem disappeared.

I'd been thinking about that experience since. And here I was, standing beside a shallow river with my daughter, hesitating over a pair of socks.

So I stepped in.

The water came over my shoes and immediately there was no issue. We could get on with playing.

What I now am thinking about isn't the enduring piece, nor had I experienced anything difficult, it was that I was about to let a very minor inconvenience determine what I did, and that remembering the earlier experience had changed my behaviour/decision.

I could have taken my shoes off too, of course.