Mama Diaries

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Filth

This morning my son came in from playing outside. He was covered in mud, feathers, and paint. "What are you doing out there?" I asked, amazed that he could get so dirty so soon.

"I'm making pet rocks and Indian hats," he replied.

"You're a mess!" I exclaimed.

"You are too," he countered.

"What?"

"Go look in the mirror."

I marched over to the mirror and peered at my reflection. Sure enough, dried pancake batter was plastered in my hair.

I guess it's genetic.

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