When I was a kid, my mom (who loves to garden) would order huge truckloads of dirt to be delivered to our yard. A big dump truck would arrive and unload a mountain of dirt, which my brother and I would promptly claim for ourselves until my parents could get around to distributing it where they wanted it. We would grab the hose, our buckets and shovels, and a pile of toy cars and trucks and go to town. At the end of the day we’d be covered in mud, head to toe. My mom would strip us at the back door and carry us to the waiting bath tub, tossing our muddy clothing in the washer on the way.
The closest my children have gotten to this childhood joy is the sandbox in the backyard and some buckets of water pilfered from their wading pool. We headed to my parent’s house (my childhood home) for Easter, and promptly filled that void in my daughters’ childhood experiences. I swapped their Easter dresses for jeans and my mom provided a dirt patch, hose and some of the very same shovels and buckets I had used as a child.
It started out with just dirt:
It was hard to get good pictures of Zoey playing in the dirt because she was moving so fast.
Then came the water.
See all that mud to the right? It was gloriously smeared all over their clothes and boots by the time they were done. And, yes, that is the goldfish pond Zoey is rinsing off her shovel in. (Yes, even while playing in the dirt, Zoey tried to be “tidy” and keep her tools clean).
The girls loved getting so dirty, and I was happy to see them enjoying it so much. Especially Zoey, who hates getting her hands dinner. Another childhood milestone accomplished! I hope this will become a regular activity once we own our own home someday.