Passing over the bridge to the park Saturday, I heard laughter mixed with threats from the creek below. It took a few steps to get a view of the action between the dense limbs forming a canopy above the slow moving water. But what I saw brought an instant smile to my face: a real, knockdown, drag-out mudfight.
Four shirtless combatants
No distinct sides or teams
Eight handfuls of muck and sludge, ducking, slinging, flailing away.
Goo and gunk flying in every direction.
Filthy joy pigs would be proud of.
The Holy Trinity of Boys – Filth in all three forms: Dirt, Mud, & Dust
One Mom – a lax referee, sat on the bank chuckling along. I wanted to take a picture of the fun, but was afraid to be labelled some sort of park whacko. So I just watched, a little jealous of them, wondering if I could have been as cool a parent to sons. Would I let my boys get that dirty, despite the inconvenience of taking them home? Or if I had boys, would I be more worried about the cleanliness, my car seats, and the waste of time?
(Nah, I’m pretty sure my shirt would have been on the bank with theirs…but who knows.)
I don’t know who you are, lady. All I know is; you are the official Mother of the Weekend. You get no award besides the joy you allowed your boys. But that’s enough.