Mud people

In an attempt to distract myself from the misery that is potty training, I want to share a little story with you.

Having grown tired and a little on edge after Choo-choo woke up from his nap, I called Diesel, who was working outside, and asked if he would take care of our son for a while. I needed a break. Choo-choo happily went out the door with my husband, excited at the possibility of the neighbor boy being out there.

We have had a few recent thunderstorms around here, resulting in a rather large puddle next to our garage. Of course, the main thing the boys wanted to play in was that puddle. After hours of fun splashing and squealing, Choo-choo came inside drenched and muddy. And I couldn’t have been happier seeing that big grin on his face.

Boy in a puddle

There are many people who know me personally who would be shocked to find I let my kid play in the mud. I have always been thought of as very feminine, very much a girly girl. In other words, prissy. I never like to get dirty. I don’t garden or fish or do much of any activity outdoors that requires me to shower when I’m done.

And yet, there is something most people forget about me. I spent eight years of my life growing up on a farm. I remember very vividly how one day my parents let my cousins and me play in a giant mud puddle. I mean, this thing was huge, and the mud was almost the consistency of tar. And we had SO MUCH FUN!

Imagine me, the girliest of girls, having mud thrown at me and throwing it right back. We were all covered with dirty water and thick, slimy mud from head to toe. The only thing I recall not being so happy about was the worm my cousins found and wanted to play with, because yuck.

I remembered those moments in the puddle with my cousins the first time Choo-choo asked if he could play in one. I hesitated only because it was chilly that day. Diesel promised me he would bring our son back in before it got too cold.

As I watched my darling boy splashing around the first time and every time since then, I am so pleased to know that he knows it is okay to get dirty. Mud washes off. Grass and dirt do, too. Even grease comes off eventually. At least right now, Choo-choo understands that getting messy is sometimes a part of life. Sometimes, it’s a really fun part of life.

Now only if he could understand that messy (well, poopy) undies are not a fun part of life.


Author: stepbackandbreathe33

I am a writer, mother, wife, and fighter in the battle against depression, anxiety, OCD, and PTSD.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s