Stick in the Mud

"Would you be so kind as to tow me to a muddy place of which I know of?"
--Winnie-The-Pooh

For a boy his age, Little Man is surprisingly clean. Perhaps he's just naturally tidy-minded...or perhaps it has something to do with his mother obsessively cleaning his hands and face from the tender age of justborn. Whatever the reason, he doesn't like to be dirty.

Until...he discovered mud. And sticks in which to poke mud.

One of the playgrounds we frequent has a long and twisty walking path and a creek that runs along it. Today was a wonderful, warm spring day that found us at that very playground...but did he want to climb? No. Did he want to slide? No. He wanted to poke mud.

We found an extra long stick and Little Man sat on the bridge, leaned over the edge, and examined the way the water turned brown when he swished his stick around. He must have sent out some kind of boy homing beacon, because within 10 minutes, half a dozen other little boys had joined him, poking and dropping things into the mud. Soon there were mud pies and toes being squished in the mud...luckily for me, Little Man didn't make it that far, as I had no change of clothes for him in the car. He did ask to be in the water, and I assured him that next time, play shoes and clothes would be brought. This was, apparently very exciting, because the stick came out of the water and mud was slung across my chest and face.

Note to self: Mommies need spring time play clothes, too.