Let Kids Be Kids


I’m all for teaching children to mind their manners and behave themselves. Obedience is extremely important in our home (not saying we’re perfect by any means!).

But…

I also strongly believe in allowing my children to enjoy their childhood. I try not to be too strict about things that really aren’t doing any harm…

Like rolling in the mud.

I’ve got some great shots of them completely slathered in mud. I’m talking COVERED, people.

We had such a beautiful, unseasonably warm last weekend so we spent a lot of time outdoors. While Jerry and I worked around the home, the kids rolled around in and flung mud to their little hearts’ content, laughing and truly enjoying themselves for hours. I giggled as I overheard Jada sigh from her mud hole, “Ahhhh, this is the life!”

Later on in the day though, Jerry and the kids were outside when three people on 4-wheelers came driving up our driveway. Right past the “NO TRESPASSING” sign. What the heck were they doing on our land?? And why in the world were they driving up our driveway, obviously off any trail?! (That’s incredibly infuriating to me.)

When they got to the house Jerry yelled out to them, but they turned around and left without even acknowledging him. At first I was most angry because I hate the idea of strange people, especially those who have no consideration for other people’s property, possibly seeing my children playing outside.

But later on I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of what if they did spot the kids… hiding in the trees, caked in mud!

Oh well.

I threatened the kids all day with the water hose, but it got dark before we went in, and I didn’t want to chill them. So, they got a nice shower, and then (after all of the mud had washed down the drain) a warm bubble bath.

And guess what.

They are still dirty.

Ah, the joys of childhood.

Parents, don’t be too strict on your little ones. This part of their life goes by so quickly. They’ll be adults for most of their lives. Let them enjoy their innocence. A little mud never hurt… these are the things that make fond memories to recall when they are grown!


Kendra
About Kendra 1104 Articles
A city girl learning to homestead on an acre of land in the country. Wife and homeschooling mother of four. Enjoying life, and everything that has to do with self sufficient living.

8 Comments

  1. Great pictures, and I’m sure they had a great time. Those trespassers on the 4-wheelers WOULD worry me, but as for the kids, I’m glad you let them do this sort of thing. My parents were neat freaks who never would have allowed something like this.

  2. My kids slide down a muddy mountainside for an afternoon. Never seen them laugh so hard. After washing there clothes three or four time we gave up and threw them away. We’re a bit nuts and joined them for awhile. One of my best memories of raising kids!

  3. Oh yeah, Kendra, I know your point about your driveway. I live beside a dirt road, it is actually a private drive, there are 3 other families that live down it, but theyre in the woods so you cant see,anyway, even though its not marked like a road, people just see a long dirt road and think they can go on back there. we dont have as much trouble as we used to, but I understand the aggravation.

  4. My son used to have to take his clothes off under the carport and get straight in the shower when he was small like that. My daughter never cared for playing like that, but he made up for her part too, he would get so muddy!

  5. You’re such a good mommy!!! Some of my fondest memories of childhood were playing in the mud with my little brother… in our underwear. My mother was not happy with us being slathered head to toe in black mud, but luckily for her the bathroom was 4 feet from the front door!

  6. We have a saying around our house, God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt. My boys have been begging to get in the creek and play, we still need the water to go down some from the flooding we had last week. We hope to be in the creek by the end of the week, catching crawfish, tadpoles and anything else we can find.

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