Wednesday, April 29, 2009

"Everybody loves jumping in muddy puddles"














To get pictures for my "Springtime" post, my Boy and I embarked on a morning stroll in the woods near to our house, an excellent way to fill the time between morning naptime and lunch time. He enjoyed himself immensely, we saw two dogs for him to woof at, and heard many birds singing, which prompts my clever boy to look indiscriminately upwards, squeezing his chubby fists in his version of the sign for "bird" (which incidentally, is the same as his sign for duck and milk. It can get confusing around our house). He also, much to my dismay, discovered the childhood joy of jumping in muddy puddles, รก la Peppa Pig. But not just jumping, "fishing" for debris at the bottom with his hands, and simply sitting in them.

Our twenty minute wander in the woods warranted the following, massive amount of housework:

Our pile of washing:

My Boy's things: coat, dungarees, shoes, t-shirt (the sleeves got muddy from picking up handfuls of mud), vest, nappy, (he sat in puddles. Repeatedly), socks, shoes.

My things: top, jeans, shoes (managed to save the socks), coat, sling.

Other things: muslin cloth (found, thankfully, in the car, the only thing, aside from a very small plastic sandwich bag I found, protecting the car seat.), inside of car and car seat, the bath, the bathmat, and the hallway rug could do with a hoover too, to be honest.


The irony of it is that he does own an all-in-one waterproof and super-tiny wellington boots in his size, with extra short calf length for tiny boys, and extra wide calf width for chubby baby legs. Of course, these items were safely tucked away at home.

Twenty minutes of fun for Boy and tongue-biting (don't spoil his fun, the clothes will wash, he's not hurting anybody) for me yielded at least double that amount of time in a huge clean-up operation. But at least Boy enjoyed his bath.

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