“Momma, come look at what I made you!” As he took my hand and led me to the roots of that sprawled out ole oak tree of which was his canvas, he smiled up at me beaming with pride.
“I made you a pie!” There nestled among the roots of that expansive oak that brought him so much joy, lay a mud pie gussied up ever so intentional with acorns and sticks that he had scrounged up with his dirty little hands.
“You like it momma? It’s a poopoo pie for you!”
Now, I could have cringed and in my your in trouble mom voice screeched at him for POOPING IN THE YARD but more importantly, PLAYING IN IT! I did not.
After praising him for being so creative, I grabbed my camera, reason being two fold. One, I wanted to capture the memory. Second reason being, I knew I would need blackmail one day. I can’t for the life of me locate that picture. I have searched relentlessly.
I relive this moment often and feel the sentiments it stirs in my soul are worth noting.
Let them get dirty.
I am so thankful that the use of technology wasn’t commonplace when my kids were coming up. Or when I was growing up for that matter. I can’t imagine my childhood without the Mary’s Creek escapades or playing children of the corn in the field near the house I grew up in. Devils Dip and four wheeler’s. Football with the neighborhood kids on Saturday mornings. Despite all the turmoil that I experienced as a kid, there are those memories of friends and adventures that sustain me.
Both of my kids and a few that were not birthed by me but like my own, spent hour upon hour getting dirty on two acres of real estate. Real estate that was waiting to be turned inside out, anticipating the presence of the kids and their willingness to create their own escapades and adventures. Add to the mix, chickens, an old red heeler, bicycles, and plenty of buckets and shovels and you have a recipe for a memorable childhood. I will say however, there has only been one poopoo pie made for me, by anyone, to date.
What was missing wasn’t missed at all.
No cell phones. No gaming systems. No devices to distract us from the goings on akin to that of the poopoo pie. The lack of technology was probably my kids saving grace. I could have made them famous. These kids on YouTube today have nothing on my two. To this day they are two of the most entertaining people I know.
Their childhood was dirt filled. We would get up in the morning, eat and go outside. That old red dog never too far away. There we would stay until the mosquitoes coerced us to go inside. Reluctantly, we would head inside only to eagerly await the rising of that sun that would be the opening scene of many memories to come.
My bathtub was always a mess. Some days I just gave up trying to clean it knowing that we would be right back there tomorrow evening doing the very same thing. Washing off the layers of adventure and shenanigans wrought by the day.
Let ’em get dirty, folks. They will be better humans for it. You too will benefit in ways unfathomable until years later as you write your story or reminisce.
There is a time and a place for technology and the likes.
It’s irony at its’ best, is it not? Me communicating to you these recollections via the world wide web. I feel like a hypocrite of sorts. During this season of my life however, I am thankful for the ability to reach an audience wider than my inner circle. It is good for my soul.
Let ’em’ get dirty and soak up every single minute. If only life were equipped with a pause button. I can’t add value to it any better than Luke Bryan.
Sixty seconds now feels more like thirty,
Tick-tock, won’t stop, and round it goes.
Sand through the glass sure falls in a hurry, and all you keep trying to do is slow it down, soak it in, keep trying to make the good times last as long as you can,
but you can’t.
Man, it just goes too fast. It goes by too Fast.