Bring Home Some Mud

I wish we’d brought swim suits, I thought to myself. Our little boys, their pants hiked up to their knees, were wading in the water.

“Let’s let them dip their toes in,” I had said to Andy just moments earlier.

“Sure, you’re all wearing sandals,” Andy said to me as I was already slipping said sandals off of my feet. Andy took Elijah for a walk along the river. And while I wished for him to dip his toes in too, he gets cold so easily and wouldn’t have enjoyed it.

Why didn’t we plan better? My inner narrative spoke as I watched the boys play. I really wish we had swimsuits.

The boys grabbed rocks and threw them in the water, watching them splash. They kicked the waves. I slowly walked through the water, feeling the sand under my feet. The summer sun was shining high in the sky, making us squint.

All the while my inner narrative kept repeating:

Why didn’t you plan better?
You should’ve brought suits so that they could actually swim. 
Ugh, why don’t we have any suits?

Meanwhile, the boys dug in the sand, pretending to be dogs. They were getting dirty. And, yes, a bit wet. And so as I stood there soaking up the last moments of summer, I told my inner narrative to shut up.

And we played and we splashed and we made memories.

Sometimes you just need bring home some mud on your pants.

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