Mudlucious

70-degree day in late December 

Confession: we are those parents.  The ones whose kids are thigh-deep in the mud puddle, shrieking gleefully at the squishiness on their skin; the ones whose kids are allowed to disrobe on a ridiculously beautiful and warm day, because "mama, I want to feeeeel the wind on my body"; the ones whose kids are right this minute buck naked and sliding past the doorway to the kitchen in their version of hilarious slapstick poses, gleefully hollering for more water (I wish it were legal for me to share pictures - it is soooo funny, and they have kept this up for the past 45 minutes) (note: this activity began as a floor-scrubbing. let's just say the floor got scrubbed AND buffed)!  We used to show up at the local Elementary school playground in Richmond, after-hours, because we knew they had this one gigantic dirt spot that became prime mud puddle whenever it rained.  The school kids would still be there, poking at it timidly with long sticks, parents close by admonishing them not to dirty their shoes (um...take them off?) and the girls would run straight for it, shedding shoes and socks, and amidst a chorus of "you're gonna get dirty! your mom's gonna be maaaad!" they'd immerse themselves knee-deep in the deliciousness.  It took a little self-talk to focus on it really being ok for them to get dirty - kids come washable, as do most clothes - and a little more self-talk to remember that they are the kids in MY family and if we are all happy (so so very happy) with what is going on and it is not hurting anyone else (is extreme envy painful? i guess it might be...), then I can survive some dirty looks from other parents who finally have to give up and either remove their children from the vicinity of the heavenly puddle or help their kiddos take off the precious shoes.  Besides, we are often in the situation where other kids are eating things I don't want my kids eating (yeah - those days when the ice-cream truck would show up just when we did) and I have to pull out the "each family does things their own way, and we just don't eat that much sugar, etc" and scramble in my bag for an attractive substitute.  The truth is I don't always manage this level of devil-may-care, but I find it hard to resist the essence of childhood I hear in the giggles and sighs of pleasure that emanate when they get to explore the world a little closer...