Mud

The boys went down to the end of the block where our street ends to play in a patch of woods. They didn't ask me. They didn't put on their play shoes. They were wearing their brand new clean shoes, (which will never be the same again.) They were making a fort, and scooping up heaping handfuls of mud and carrying it to their spot to make a mud floor that once dry, will evidently be just the thing. They came home with mud in their underwear. Mud, pretty much....everywhere.They were instructed to clean up their shoes themselves, so they thought it would be a good idea to spray them with the hose, which of course made an even bigger mess. Somebody was a little worried and embarrassed about getting his picture taken because of the possibility that others might see those pictures. It's a good thing that no one reads this blog anymore since I've hardly posted lately. Or that's what I keep telling myself. I don't mind living in my little world of denial.
Now here we've moved past the "worried" phase into the "I'm so bored" phase. It's one of those 5 stages of grief. It's a healthy and normal part of the process.
You'll all be happy to know that we've moved on to 'acceptance'. He accepted the fact that he was going straight into the tub - and I have come to terms with the fact that there will never NOT be laundry to do.