Not to sound like one who stereotypes people into certain rolls, but my child has been a bit of a girl. Granted he’d never had a sand box to play in until 20 months ago or he was probably scolded for playing in the dirt. But I’ve tried everything in my power to make this child appreciate the life lessons that a good soiling can teach you. Such as God made dirt so dirt don’t hurt. Bad grammar aside, this child couldn’t stand dirt.
Last year when I was planting my containers I had to physically grab his hands and put them in the soil. He is so freaked out about things on his hands play-doh has become my worst nightmare. Heaven forbid the child not have a napkin at a meal time. Thank God he finally learned how to use it instead of insisting on having one and then screaming when he got the slightest bit of yogurt on his thumb. And one would think that telling the child to just lick it off would work, but not my child. Oh no. The inside of his mouth is wet. That would just be silly.
However, on the side of our house is a massive pile of dirt*. 5 yards to be exact. 5 yards of really nice topsoil that will eventually become a few raised beds and fill in a few low spots in our yard. To the child, this is a mountain. A little mountain he can climb. Except, he’d get dirty. So yesterday I took off my shoes and showed him how fun it was to climb the mountain.
Lo and behold, my child thought it was fun. Not as much fun as playing in my car for 2 hours straight (that kept him out of our hair while we dug holes), but fun.
Tonight we had a nice dinner and the trusty husband said he was going out to shovel some dirt. After I made out with him for a little bit I followed him out to watch. I’d done my shoveling today. I wasn’t about to run a wheelbarrow around our yard a minute more. While he shoveled and I watched the boy took off his Crocs and climbed the hill. And climbed the hill, and climbed the hill. He let his father shovel scoopfuls of dirt on top of him. He laughed and laughed. Greatest time ever.
My child was thoroughly covered in dirt. Or at least his hands and feet and clothes. Because frankly he had a freak out incident when I tried to zip the lower part of his Gramichis off. But that’s a whole different story.
*I get paid more if you call it soil.