A picture says a thousand words, and if I hadn’t lost my camera this weekend, I would have taken one of my son when he came in from playing outside tonight.
God blessed me with two sweet and neat girls and one really messy boy. I have no doubt He knew what He was doing. Had I had more than one, I’m sure I would have been exasperated, but as it stands, my one boy fills me with daily amusement.
Today, he shot out the door after dinner, armed with several large plastic guns. Had I glanced up, I would have noticed that he was still wearing his school clothes and made him change. As it was, I continued to do the dishes as I yelled, “Have fun!”
Have fun he did. He burst in the door about an hour later, the front of his shirt and pants soaking wet and covered in mud. So, he does what any wet, dirty boy would do in this case – sits down on our white couch.
I stare incredulously as he gives me the contented smile of a kid who has been playing army in the mud.
“What happened to you?” I exclaimed, scrutinizing him.
“It’s a white shirt, mom,” he said, nonchalantly explaining the filth that covered him.
“It WAS a white shirt. Wait a minute, are your shorts wet?” I said, a little louder. “Take them off!”
He kind of shrugged and stripped down to his Sponge Bob briefs.
“Ewww!” said his sister. “Put some clothes on. You’re disgusting!”
He looked so hurt and totally perplexed that I couldn’t help but defend him. Right before I told him to get into the tub, that is.
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