Don’t step in my dirt! I’m sure we’ve heard this a time or two when mom is sweeping the kitchen. Well I’m the mom now, and it’s my dirt pile I’m trying to keep in one spot before thoughtlessly tossing it in the trash.
But today, for whatever reason, I thought a bit more about this dirt. Blame the over caffienation or the hunger brain, but this little pile can tell some stories.
Like the froot loops I swept up, that’s my son’s favorite cereal, he also learns his colors and masters his hand to mouth skills. (Still working on that).
Or the sparkles. From a leftover glittered christmas ornament he stashed because he didn’t want the magic of “miss miss” to ever end.
The little bits of dried up blue playdough from the day he learned to make shapes and know their names.
The dirt from daddy’s work boots after he comes in at the end of his work day and puts yet another gallon of milk in the fridge.
The stray coffee grounds dropped from shakey tired hands after a long night with a sick baby.
The lonely beer cap from that hard day when the stress got to be a bit much.
One day, there won’t be any sparkles, froot loops, or play dough. There will just be dirt and dust. So maybe I’ll care a little less when messes hit the floor and enjoy my dirt pile while I can.