leaping (at low tide) from one sand pile (he is sure) to the top of another, but falling full-length, short of the mark, in the wet. I analyze: Ah, child, you single-footed it when what you needed was the strong, hard push of both feet after a running start. Your determined little engine didn't get up quite enough steam to make the trip. It happens. Nothing serious. That's how we measure dimensions with the world; the way we find just how much trying it takes to make success. You are not set back an inch from further adventures, nor in the least deterred by the sea's near turning. Low tide's a time for leaps of learning; sand makes a good landing site, going in full-length and leading with your chin . . . A year from now, small boy I wish I knew, I'd like to be present to see you try it again.