My two younger boys clomped around in a muddy field next to my house for nearly the entire afternoon. They found many useful treasures like an old chewed up frisbee, and ripped plastic cup, a stick and a very handsome ball.
They came in, muddy booted, and asked to wash their hands.
They then proceeded to take their still muddy boots back
outside to bury themselves again.
Soon after, they dragged dirt clods onto the driveway
and whacked them with various garage derived tools like
a hoe, an old piece of firewood, a small shovel...you know-with complete glee.
They chalked on the driveway and then it rained.
Brody cried that his works of art were washing away.
Then he waddled his way back inside with tear stained face,
begged for noodles, and fell asleep before they were even done cooking.
Luckily, I had him stripped and bathed before he wandered off to dreamland.
Poor thing is probably demolishing dirt balls in his dreams.
Lucky for me, dreams require no clean up!
They came in, muddy booted, and asked to wash their hands.
They then proceeded to take their still muddy boots back
outside to bury themselves again.
Soon after, they dragged dirt clods onto the driveway
and whacked them with various garage derived tools like
a hoe, an old piece of firewood, a small shovel...you know-with complete glee.
They chalked on the driveway and then it rained.
Brody cried that his works of art were washing away.
Then he waddled his way back inside with tear stained face,
begged for noodles, and fell asleep before they were even done cooking.
Luckily, I had him stripped and bathed before he wandered off to dreamland.
Poor thing is probably demolishing dirt balls in his dreams.
Lucky for me, dreams require no clean up!
1 comment:
This "mud" of which you speak intrigues me. Adelle thinks a hose puddle on the patio is mud. We live on different planets.
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