In more than one refugee camp in Greece we saw children playing with water. Children doing what children do. Making the most of what is on hand. Piercing a hole in the bottom of a water bottle and squirting each other.
A little boy came up to me and to Sarah and gingerly squirted one of our hands. We offered the other hand. He smiled and gleefully squirted that one, too. There was something special, almost sacred, about having our hands washed in this way.
A bigger boy appeared and stood in front of us with a full bottle of water, the lid off! We pleaded and gestured “Please, no! Too much water!”
He grinned, and walked away…
