I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
February 3, 2009
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I got an e-mail yesterday that read, “You can learn so much from a mom when you witness how she responds to her toddler going “limp” in a mudpuddle!”
It was from a new friend who had joined me for a playdate yesterday. And she was referring to me.
Of course, I have no idea what she was talking about…
Okay, maybe I do…
It all started pretty innocently, when I suggested we meet at Warner Park’s new play area.
Now this is no ordinary play area. The park’s naturalists believe kids don’t get dirty anymore, so the play area basically consists of two huge dirt mounds and a little play house. And children LOVE it.
The last time I took Punky and Bruiser there, the place was overrun with children their age. With so little to work with, the kids were all banding together and using their IMAGINATIONS. Fancy that! I felt like quite the smug mom watching my little ones get streaks and smudges all over their jeans. I’m not afraid to let my kids get dirty, I smirked to myself, unlike SOME women I know!
Fast forward to yesterday. I met my friend and her sons at the park and we headed down to the play area. We seated ourselves on a bench and the children got down to playing.
At first, everything was going well…
But within a few minutes, the kids had begun trying to climb to the top of one of the dirt mounds, and at that point, I realized something truly horrible:
It was one big, slippery, gooey mound o’ MUD.
It only took a few minutes for the kids to be coated in it. And my friend and I realized we had between us just one travel container of wipes. We rationed them carefully and tried to clean up the worst of the damage- like when Bruiser got mud in his eye.
The children seemed to be having fun, but I was afraid that my new friend would leave in a huff because I had lured her and her children to a mudpit.
I shouldn’t have worried.
Because as we were chatting, she reached up to smooth her hair and then paused and looked down at her hand.
“Um, that’s not my booger,” she said, holding out her finger. On it was, well, you know.
“I knew something was funny when my hair stuck to my hand,” she said, and then sighed. “I wonder which one of them it belonged to?”
That’s when I knew that a little mud? Was totally okay.
Besides, children really don’t get dirty enough these days.
And just in case you’re wondering? I totally threw Bruiser’s shoes in the trash before we even left the park. They were pretty much unsalvageable, and mercifully, a little too small anyway.
Or so I’m telling myself.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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