Water would always run down the sides of my mouth after hastily drinking a cold cup of water, exhausted from all the running. We would always makes sure no nieghbors door was missed, in excitement they would join us for a game of kick the can. When we had our tribe prepared to play, I would make an attempt at exclaiming the game, but usually was quickly drowned out from their laughing and chatting. After begging and getting my dad to be the seeker, he would start counting down and we would all run in different directions, hoping to learn by imitation. The only thing you could hear was the loud ribbits of the frogs, and occasionally a giggle from a hiding spot. Even now after years of practice at the game, I often find myself amazed at the places some people find to hide, or resort to hiding in.