As part of my ongoing field study of dirt, I would like to go on record as noting that neither soap nor alcohol nor dish soap can remove ground in grass stains from the feet of a four year old. I also learned that green feet are a small price to pay for the sheer joy of running through cut grass, over and over, just because it feels good.
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With the weather behaving true to form, I have gone from sitting in my winter coat Wednesday at ball practice to being sunburned and parched today.
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E is on hour 27 of a rice only weekend. (This is a social studies project, voluntary I might note.) She is not particularly pleasant. Perhaps if we were stuck with only rice to eat, I WOULD eat my young. Of course, holding true to her overachiever personality, I'm sure she'll stick it out until tomorrow at 6pm. She did pause when I suggested a chocolate rice sundae though.
2 comments:
I wiah I was 4 again.
When I was a kid, my grandfather would hook a wagon up to the back of his riding mower, and my sister and I would ride in the back with our feet hanging off in the grass as he mowed. I think we stayed green all summer. I love the smell of fresh cut grass, and all the memories it stirs.
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