Mud-Slinging by an Expert

I have had a first-hand encounter with a professional mud-slinger that has caused me to lose all interest in the Washington variety! I'm telling you, they can't hold a candle to a five year old boy.

I don't know what it is about boys and dirt. I raised two of them, and now am experiencing the joys of a grandson. They all loved dirt. But this one has the last generation beat in the mud department. He attracts it like a magnet attracts steel. It's almost uncanny!

He and his sister walk the same route to my door. She arrives clean and neat. He arrives discheveled and dirty. Her shoes are dry, maybe even shiny. His shoes are caked with mud (and untied). More than this, he may even have leaves and sticks in his hair! Why? (Could it be he tried to make leaf angels?)

But the really amazing part is what happens after he gets here. I have a mat just inside the door to stand on while taking off wet or muddy shoes. I have a plastic pan to put them in. Why, then, do I find him on the sofa in his stocking feet, muddy shoes in the pan - but muddy footprints all the way to the bathroom and back (including two on the carpet)? (I couldn't wait, Grammy!)

Ok, but how did the mud get on the kitchen sink? On the faucet handle? On the kitchen table and the back of one chair? On the dish cabinet handle? The refrigerator door?

Simple. Removing his shoes, he got muddy hands. He decided he needed a drink, got a cup. Then he decided water wasn't satisfying his thirst. So he went to the fridge and found kool-aid. Came back to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. I am counting my blessings. At least he didn't take the kool-aid to the sofa.

With such a delightful little mud-slinger around, I just don't have much time for the political variety. Bless him.