“Iwanna go owside, Daddy.”
Okay, after supper, Mikester. After supper is an eternity away.
“AW!” sighed my 2yo. With new teeth coming in and a sore mouth, he barely moved his lips. “Iwanna go owside, Daddy.” said he, “Iwanna go owside, Daddy!”
A child is not an inside person – a house seems like a prison. I finished my gruel and got on my grubs.
It was a beautiful evening. Not too cold and a gorgeous sunset. The Princess and The Tribe join soon join us. Check out that sunset, Mike! “Huh?” He’s far too interested in mud to be bothered by that. Little Princess, check out that sunset. “Oh, yeah.”
The kids create games that the toy manufacturers could never package. Mud soup, $2 a bowl. I haggle the price down to $1.50… I mean, come on, the head chef has a huge string of snot hanging from his nose!
The sun sets all to quickly on the fun. Some soup must go to waste. The soup is waste to begin with.
The boys are soaked to their socks and cover in mud. The girl needs a wipe. They go in pretty easily although there is a big “AW!” from everyone. Including my inner-child, who longs to taste freshly made mud soup from a chef with a runny nose.