Mud, mud, glorious mud

there’s nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
so follow me follow,
down to the hollow
and there we will wallow in glorious mud.

I think I will dub this the summer of mud and marshmallows.

Maclin has always been my fastidious child.  However, he has decided to move onto greener pastures.  Or rather, browner pastures.  Short of locking him in his room, I cannot keep this child out of the mud this summer.  And if he can’t find it, he’ll make some.

My mother tells people all the time that if she ever gets lost in a desert, she hopes one of my children is with her.  Because if anybody is going to find water, it will be my children.  No divining stick necessary for my crew. 

I left Maclin outside playing in his sandbox, and apparently was gone just a little too long, because when I returned, this is what I found. 

Curiously, I watched him for awhile, trying to figure out what he was up to.  He was very busy, talking away and putting mud here and there.  Since he was too preoccupied to notice me, I grabbed my camera and headed in for a closer look.  He finally looked up and discovered me watching him. 

This opened the door for a discussion.  We talked about how he must be very busy since he had mud all over him.  I was then instructed to take his picture so he could see. 

    

I left him to his work.  A little while later I returned to find these neat little piles of mud lined up in a row.  I asked him about it, to which he replied “I’m making mud piles.”  “Oh.  Mud piles. “ I said.  “No mommy.  not mud Piles.  Mud aisles.” 
“Pardon me.  Yes that is a Mud aisle.”

Of course, it wasn’t until later that I suddenly wondered, did he really mean mud aisles?  Or perhaps he meant mud isles?  I guess I’ll never know.