Saturday was the Serendipity Children's Festival held each year at
our Montessori school here in Georgetown. There are always arts and
crafts activities, children's musicians, and vendors showing off
organic gardening stuff, recycling info, and this year there was
someone demonstrating a solar powered backpack. Please don't ask me
why you would need a "powered" backpack at all...although if you
needed a powered backpack, it would be handy to have a solar powered
one, I guess. Jason had volunteered to flip burgers while Evelyn and
Willa played on the playground and Mary Grace ran around with her
buddies. It had rained a ton the day and morning before the
festival, but the sun came out right as things were getting started,
so it was cool but sunny...a perfect day to be outside.
While I was watching Evelyn and Willa climbing and sliding, I looked
over and noticed that some children were playing in some of the
puddles on the playground. They were taking their shoes off, and
enjoying the feeling of the cold, slightly muddy water in between
their toes. I remember that feeling. Being a kid is so cool
sometimes. I saw that Mary Grace was over there, and had hiked up
her track pants so they didn't get wet. She and her little girl
friends looked so cute playing. I went back to watching Evelyn and
Willa, and in the space of about three minutes, the sweet child-like
exploration of the playground puddle had turned into some kind of
Lord of the Flies mud-fest. My sweet little girl was leading a group
of girls taking a running start and attempting to belly-flop into the
biggest of the mud pits. I just rolled my eyes. They were so
happy. No one was getting wet who didn't want to get wet, and I did
stop her from tempting anymore children (especially other little
girls in their sweet sundresses) into the puddle. Then I heard
someone say, "If my child did that, I would just kill her." Really?
For getting dirty? Were the girls making a slight spectacle of
themselves at a public event? Yes. Were they being mean or
destructive? Nope. I let them play until they started throwing mud
at each other, then walked Mary Grace home (no way was I letting her
get in my car), hosed her off in the backyard, and put her in a hot
bath. I wondered briefly if I should have stopped her sooner, or
reprimanded her for getting so dirty at such a public event, but I
just couldn't figure out why I would do that. She told me later that
this was the best day ever. Mary Grace, I love you...My sweet,
spirited, muddy girl.