I had just spent a good portion of my day sweeping my dirt-encrusted floors and then I went all out and mopped them. Mopped them until they glowed. But really, why did I bother when they leave clothes on the floor that do this as they get into the shower? I’ll admit, part of me wanted to be all…
And because I know my boys, I brought my phone. And because of their squeals of laughter, I had it set to video camera.
“I JUST MOPPED FLOORS AND WHY COULDN’T YOU WAIT TO GET THIS MUDDY?” on them. But did you see their pure joy?
I rounded the corner around the raspberry bushes in time to see them each patiently waiting their turn (gasp!) as they took turns running as fast as they could across an unplanted part of the field to dive and then plop land into a deep pile of mud.
It’s the pure joy of being a boy in mud in the summer. It’s the freedom of summertime and being brothers. That is worth any muddy floor.
Words escape me. It was the best time they had had yet in the field this summer. They assured me they would wash off in the swamp before returning to the house. That was comforting. At the house, I made them up plates full of dinner, called them to the house, refused to let them enter and made them sit on the ground to eat.
Praise and Coffee | Summer 2013
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