Country kids are always outside. Mine are anyway. My sister once told me that my children are three of the filthiest children she has ever seen. Admittedly they were very young when she said it, however there have been moments when their cleanliness really did leave a lot to be desired.
Growing up on a farm, dirt and grime is almost a part of their DNA. They spent most of their early years making roads for trucks in our garden, and running around clothed almost exclusively in filth. Even now Mr 7 can be found – every afternoon without fail – in our garden playing with his trucks and making roads, grids and managing his ‘farm’. Every afternoon I put another load of washing in the machine to keep up with the rotation of gear needed to cater for any ‘outside play’.
More recently, Mr 7 had a full arm cast on a broken arm. I was prepared for a little dirt to creep up under the cast, but even a few broken bones didn’t change the outside play. Thankfully the cast was removed, just as a potentially ominous smell began to emerge from the deep recesses of his plaster. I wasn’t prepared for the serious collection of sand and dirt that had accumulated under the cast. Each night the scratching procedure required to clean out dirt gathering between his fingers wore me down a little more.
Then there was that time many years ago when we were picking a friend up from Brisbane airport. It was in the middle of a Bird Flu epidemic and everyone exiting the plane was wearing a mask to prevent exposure to (presumably) Bird Flu. As I ran to greet my friend, I turned to see where my children had disappeared to. They were pressed up against the viewing window watching the planes… and licking the glass panelling – much to the disgust of passengers around them. I figured if it didn’t cause them permanent damage, then it would certainly boost their immune systems!
I suppose the ease with which my children deal with dirt and grime is partially genetic. Much like their father, who will pull a sheep stuck in a dam, or change a flat tyre regardless of what he is wearing, my children have even been caught grubbing themselves up at weddings, in delicate dresses and mini suits, in the pursuit of fun and games.
Amid all of the dirt and grime are three happy and healthy children. I have always encouraged outside play – even at the expense of clothes being ruined and dirt being swallowed. They have been supported in their exploration of the world, regardless of how neat and tidy (or even completely revolting) they are at the end of it. They are only children for a short time, and they’ve given me a good laugh, even if it was often at their messy expense.
