Back when Mom and I were both living in town, and doing foster care, someone called the social worker. They complained that, every time they went by our house, the children were dirty. The social worker said, basically, "Yes, it's wonderful, isn't it?"
Nobody goes past our house now, but they certainly wouldn't be able to say the same thing. Our children are always fastidiously clean.
They hardly ever play outside, instead staying nice and tidy, in front of the television.
If they do play outside, we keep them out of the dirt, and let them splash in some nice, clean, chlorinated water.
|Oh my goodness, how did that happen? It just tipped itself right over.|
|And look, it left a tiny bit of mud behind.|
|I will scrape it all out, being careful not to get any on myself.|
|Yes, that worked quite nicely.|
|I pat my brother on the head simply because he is being such a good helper.|
|OH my goodness, L., how did you manage to get MUD in your HAIR?|
|I think we can consider our work here done, what think you, brother?|
Not TOO bad, considering.