We went to the park on Wednesday to swing
because it was a beautiful, gorgeous, sunny spring day because it was 5 degrees above freezing and I made the big mistake of setting Camryn down on a small patch of mostly dry grass thinking it would be nice for her to actually sit outside for a change. She’s been developing quite the personality of her own lately which includes freaking. out. every time I pick her up when she does not want to be picked up. And she did not want to be picked up. She wanted to scoot around the damp, dirty, cold park, make piles of damp, dirty, cold woodchips (why has sand been universally replaced by woodchips??) and. . . scoot through a square field-of-rocks-and-prickly-bushes landscaping area. All on her butt. And she was getting pretty filthy, but I couldn’t stop her. Partly because I didn’t want to get my hand bitten off, and partly because I didn’t have the heart.
I’m of the strong opinion that kids should spent most of their childhood hours playing outside getting dirty. I lived right next to a ravine as a kid and there a lot more hours spent down there sledding, playing baseball, hopping the stream, building forts, climbing trees than there ever were spent inside doing adult supervised and organized crafts and activities. That’s how I want Camryn to grow up. And as long as she’s not eating the woodchips, or throwing the rocks at other children, it’s all good right?
I found (this picture) online the other day and I can’t explain why or how much I love it. Remember when you could be entertained for an entire day making mudcakes on the back patio in your bare feet? When I saw the picture, it struck me how many pictures are bouncing around the internet and on blogs of perfect dressed and clean good-looking model children. Where are all of these kind?
On the practical side of things though, I think I need to designate a pair of dark pants as her “scooting outside filthy pants” because there is little hope that the stain is ever coming out of these neon leggings.