Boys are dirty. They are messy little creatures who find ways to stash their treasures in the least convenient of places. If I am not careful, my dishes become habitats to salamanders and frogs. My shoes get slipped on and used as quick footwear to trek through the mud to investigate a sound by the pond. If I don't pay close attention, my washer and dryer end up with little piles of silt, candy wrappers, and -oddly- seeds, deposited on the bottom of the drum. Sheets have been slept on by poison ivy infected fingers or have little spit-up piles on them. Pudding cups on the tables, A and B math papers take over the kitchen table. (See what I did there? A little mom-bragging moment.)
|windowsill rock treasures.|
|backyard holiday tablecloth teepee/home base.|
|wolverine mask in cat bowl.|
|the elusive geode on comic book display platform.|
I live in a world of discoveries. Not that they are new - but they are new to us - and I don't want to miss a thing. I don't want the boys to miss a thing. Spring is only once a year.
At least I'm not afraid to get a little dirty anymore.