Boys Love Dirt

Toddler playing in dirtYesterday I sat watching my son gleefully crash his toy cars into piles of dirt. I got a big wide smile on my face seeing how happy he was digging, building little mountains and destroying them.

He squealed in delight, “Mommy watch!”

Then, as I looked up at him, he threw a giant handful of dirt right in my happy smiling face. The kind of smile that shows teeth. Teeth that were now all crunchy with dirty sand.

*sigh* Boys.

It went all in my hair, on my pants, down my shirt. It was a pretty good throw. Before I morphed into Angry Mommy, I hopped up, shook off the dirt and told him if he’s going to throw stuff at me, then I don’t want to play with him anymore.

I think he took this as a challenge to throw dirt in any other general direction, including wiping it all over himself.

*sigh* again. Boys.

Oh I’m sure there are some dirt loving little girls out there. I know I was one of them. But I’m not sure if I was this committed. And I surely never threw dirt in my mother’s face. But then again, I do recall a lot of time spent playing in the dirt/sand/mud. So maybe this needs to be changed to kids. Kids Love Dirt. Boys, girls, and sometimes even mommies, love dirt. Except in the face.

Nobody loves dirt in the face.

Learning to stop and play

playAs a busy mom, I’m always trying to do a million things. Laundry, wash the dog, feed the kid, shower, maybe even attempt to exercise.

My son is also trying to do a million things. Create more laundry, harass the dog, feed his teddy bear, get dirty and also, get me to play with him.

Sometimes I get so focused on “getting things done” that I just want to keep going like how I would in pre-baby days. Do all the things! And do them all now! But in pre-baby days, there wasn’t a small child creating messes while I’m cleaning messes and constantly going “mommy, mommy, mommyyyyy” while I zoom around the house.

And then there’s this nagging memory I have from when I was little, where my mom would pretend to play with me while she doing housework. Like I’d be playing Monopoly and badly want someone to play with so she’d tell me to set the board up for two, and then play for her. So basically, my mom was my imaginary friend. I also remember thinking this arrangement sucked. There are some obvious drawbacks to being an only child.

(*As a side note, so as not to suffer future wrath from my mother, I have to say she really did make time for me. This was a just a memory that sticks from a particularly busy day.)

So on a daily basis, no matter how busy I am, or how much I need to get done, I make time to stop and play throughout the day. Whether it’s crashing cars off a ramp, building train tracks, or just sitting with him in his favorite chair while he watches a show, I make sure to stop and give him my full, undivided attention.

Because every time I realize he’s been begging me to play with him for too long, that Monopoly memory kicks in and I realize the laundry can wait. Who wants to do laundry when you can lie on the floor and color anyway?

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