So, the last post ended abruptly because I was trying to squeeze it in while dinner was on the make. Jeff had to go out to the grill and I had to get the rice and sweet potatoes under control. In any event, the photo of the boys' mud-encrusted shoes should've had a bit more explanation. Although, when you think about it... it's spring, they are 10 and 8... why would I need to explain muddy shoes?
The kicker is that this wasn't just being-outside-playing-in-post-snow-melting weather kind of mud accumulation. This was courtesy of the special gift that young boys have for seeking out and being lured into a whole mess of mud. (Pun intended.) On the sidewalk behind our house, leading over to the pool and clubhouse, there was built a quaint little wooden bridge. It really doesn't serve to "bridge" two land masses over a body of water. In fact, all I think I've ever seen under said bridge is rocks. And some trash left by folks who couldn't possibly walk another 10 feet to an actual trash can. However, with the snow dumping we got on several occasions this past winter and the spring-like mild weather this past week, everything is waterlogged with the excess moisture. And under this previously dry rock bed? Is dirt and water -- which we all know are the main ingredients in MUD.
When the boys went out to play after school earlier this week, I found the three of mine with their best friend from next door at the bridge (because, really, all I had to do is follow the boyish shouts of absolute glee) playing in the mud. With sticks. They said they were "mucking." Yes, there probably isn't a better word to describe playing in the mud; but, personally, I think they were all about that word because it's one letter off the mother of all don't-ever-let-me-catch-you-saying-it words. Ever. (Note: This vocabulary tidbit was acquired from a former friend of theirs who I regularly referred to as "The Bad Seed.") I was just holding my breath that none of them thought to call the other a "brother mucker."
After that day, the shoes they had been wearing were officially knighted as "play shoes," because there was no way in hell I was allowing them to wear them to school. And now? The "play shoes" live on the front porch--when they're not "mucking."