Eau de toilette

It has been cool and rainy this week. BLAH. Leave it to May to throw a few 85 degree days at you and then slam you back down into the 60s. I was really getting the summer itch. Ran out and bought ferns and flowers for the porch. Packed up all of Sophie's winter clothes. Listened to Will Smith's "Summer Time" on iTunes. And then there's that smell. Not the scent of fresh cut lawns, although there is that lovely aroma that announces the arrival of better days. A different smell. I call it the "outside smell." It's a certain scent that little kids carry around after a long day spent playing outside. Running in and out of water. In and out of the house while I scream "shut the door you're letting my flies out!" Which I then shutter because I sound EXACTLY like my mother. Breathless little sweaty bodies with grimy hands begging for popsicles. And in and out of dirt.

Last Friday Little Bit had "outside smell" x 100. She was out from sun up until literally sun down. And she screamed and cried when it was time to come in. When it had gotten so dark that you could no longer see the hole you were digging with a shovel.

It started early in the morning with a busting out of the sprinkler. (I like how we let them run on wet concrete :0) Guess we should re-think that one!)

Followed by a few failed attempts at the slip and slid, which had to be called off due to rocks in the yard. Our 5 year old neighbor took a run at it with all of his might to show the little ones just how it was done. It was successful and his mom and I were cheering and whooping on the side saying things like "oh yea, it's your birthday! That's how it's done!" Until we saw the look on his face and his stomach riddle with scratches and scraps. I swear these things worked better in the 80s'.

Then off to play tag and swing. And it ended late that evening, stripped down to underwear, building a beach with a few girls. It's highly likely that the sand they were using is a designated poop spot for the cats across the street. I pointed this fact out and one of the girls informed me that they had yet to find the first cat poop so they were dubbing it safe. Nar-sty.

And this was the point that she screamed and cried. I can't imagine not wanting to leave a poop pit filled with creek water. She got a LOOOOOONG hot bath that night to wash away all the funk and along with it the outside smell. But it'll be back. She'd live outside if we let her.