A secret muddy puddle

The lull is passing.

I packed two changes of clothes. Flannels. Bottles filled with warm water. Two sets of bowls, muffin tins and wooden spoons.

We were off for a walk and heading for the mud.

There are lots of puddles near us. But only one passes the squelch test.

It's become our secret muddy puddle.

Luca was, well, like a pig in mud. Pigs would love this, was the first thing he said. His friend, little piglet, was joining in all the fun. Apparently.

I watched as he made me chocolate cake, chocolate muffins and a chocolate roll.

I expected – and wanted – Kian to do the same. I was prepared, for heaven's sake. I was hoping to watch Kian, especially, wallow about, throw clumps of it at his brother. Have a mud fight. Even play in the watery puddles. Anything.

He took a few steps towards the action. Very steadily. Then turned right around.

There was a moment of stirring, but it was just a moment. And I had to bring the mud over to him.

Yoghurt gets smeared and rubbed in at the table. Dog bowls get played in and poured all over each other. Food under the table gets squished and fondled.

Mud in a field?

Not when Mummy wants me to. And not when she's all prepared like that.

They KNOW. That's what it is.

Sydney got muddier than anyone. She doesn't play the same toddler games.

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