Yesterday morning Tyler and I were playing outside for a bit before I went in to campus. It has been raining the last day and a half or so (ironically it's been raining since the text went out from the woman I know to pray for rain to end the riots...hmmm). So everything was quite wet.
Our little sand/dirt pit was a mud pie makers paradise, and I thought it would be fun to introduce the idea of "cooking" in the mud to Tyler (he's played in the mud lots just not necessarily making pies and other fun treats). So we started making cookies and pies and I threw in an avocado just so our arteries didn't clog up and our sugar levels didn't get drastically out of control (or maybe it was to alleviate the guilt?). In any case, Tyler moved on from any sort of food groups and asked if we could make what only a toddler with a father who has a similar fascination would want to make: mud poopies. Right.
I responded, "Mud poopies? The thing is I don't really know how to make those."
Tyler, as if anticipating my hesitation, said, "Maybe you could give it your best try."
I couldn't really come back with anything that wouldn't sound hypocritical--how could we ask him to give it a try, to do the best he could when he didn't think he knew how if I wasn't willing to do the same?
So I caved. "You're right Tyler, I can give it my best try."
Tyler responded with a nudge of reassurance, "That's all you can do." (Not kidding, he really said that word for word)
To which, I nodded, and repeated for emphasis letting the words soak in, "That's right. That's all I can do."
And then, we made mud poopies. I was out of my element molding these things in my hand, and it was a bit of a stretch for my gag reflex...but chalk it up to another way I'm willing to bend my own comfort zone in order to drive home life lessons I want to stick with our little man.
We had a quality moment that morning in the mud. Feeling it squish in our fingers and making all sorts of lovely and not-so-lovely things. We were creating. And after the initial fun of the mud poopies we moved on to castles and used weeds to build a forest around our castle. When creativity is flowing, it's best to let it flow. And I'm glad I didn't let my unease stop it. We had loads of fun, and when I had to head off I actually felt a bit like a kid again. Allowing the fun and play to lead where it wanted to lead: it was amazingly freeing.
On top of the fun, creativity and freedom in play, my 2 and a half year old son reminded me that trying my best, even when I am convinced I don't know how to do something, is worth a shot. And it really is all we're asked to do.
