For happiness, just add dirt

The longer One Philly Daddy and I are parents, the more our parenting philosophy becomes clear to me. Somethings are a bit of a surprise of me, in that I'd never considered some aspects of parenthood, not so much that I expected to feel differently.
I wasn't raised to be wary of germs, and some of our best times involved streams, mud, dirt, trees, sticks, leaves, climbing, etc.

So I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that I've concluded "A Dirty Kid is a Happy Kid."

Since I've been home full time recently and the weather has been warmer and nicer, we've been outside a lot more. Recently (sadly, my last post) I confronted One Philly Son wanting to play outside in what is essentially, our dogs' potty. Yesterday I was confronted with this once again.

One Philly Son LOVES to be outside. He whines at the doors to go outside often, and I can tell he's just thrilled to be outside whenever we're outside, whether its a walk, the playground, or throwing a ball off the porch. (Which is especially fun for One Philly Daddy and I since we do not live on a flat street and end up chasing said ball. Sigh.) He loves it. I've been visiting one of the three playgrounds within walking distance of my house every day that the weather cooperates, but it doesn't always work out. One Philly Son sometimes falls asleep on the walk to the park and the other times he falls asleep on the swings, ruining play time AND his nap schedule. Beyond that, it can get to be a drag to have to pack a diaper bag, snacks, sunscreen and lug the stroller.

Plus, One Philly Daddy spent a lot of time and effort last year commandeering various play things from Craigslist and the like to set up the perfect outdoor play area for One Philly Son. We have a small slide, 2 swings, picnic table and sand box. To top it all off, One Philly Daddy ordered a custom sign to hang over our door announcing that the backyard is One Philly Son's "Playground". Way too much love and effort went into that yard for it to go to waste because of a little dirt!

So, dog poop notwithstanding, I want to spend as much time in our yard as humanly possible. And I'd like it to be the most enjoyable and usable for One Philly Son. Which means, I imagine I'll be doing a quick poop run every day that the weather will allow One Philly Son to play outside. A small price to pay for the joy it brings him.

Today, we were playing outside when One Philly Son remembered the hose (yesterday while he played, I did some yard work, attempting to clear plants, poop and other unmentionables that inhibit his play), and stood under the dripping hose "washing" rocks and pieces of mulch. He'd already played in his sandbox, so adding water was a messy proposition.

And then I did something crazy. I called One Philly Daddy who was on his way home from work, and he picked up a small inflatable pool for One Philly Son so he could REALLY play with water.

Between the water, sand, dirt, dogs, pollen, mulch, and Cheerio snack (lovingly provided by me, and happily dumped into the pool by One Philly Son) we had quite a mess going.

But I can't stand to stand in the way of the moment when One Philly Son fills a cup of water and splashes his own face, realizing "hey! this thing holds water!" or the moment he sticks a sandy hand in the pool and realizes "this stuff washes off!" or the first moment he successfully steps over the edge of the pool without help and looks up with the "WOW, did you see THAT?!" look on his face.

More of a wonder is that watching One Philly Son has brought back some long buried but happy memories from my childhood about the wonder and glee of exploration and adventure and imagination.

Maybe a dirty kid is a happy Mommy?