We had a lovely Memorial Day weekend. The weather was ideal and my husband and I worked outside the majority of it- mulching, mowing, planting and transplanting flowers. It was wonderfully rewarding to sit back late Monday afternoon and admire the fruit of our labor.
Relaxing after a weekend of hard work, we (my husband and kids) stretched out on a blanket on what we call “The Green Beach” otherwise known as the side yard. Sunning ourselves and visiting with our neighbors as we discussed the progress of the ever-mounting battle called home improvement.
It truly felt like the first day of summer and the kids reveled in the idea. In the spirit of 1961, we broke out the slip and slide (or as my husband calls it, the yard killer) and fired up the hose. Braeden, Kian and Ailey all got their bathing suits on and hit the slid. However, Kelan decided clothing wasn’t necessary and stripped down to his bare britches. I tried desperately (well sort of) to get him to put some underwear on or swim trunks, but he was having none of it. So, I let him run the green beach naked. Why not bring some Euro/South American culture to 157 Dennis Ave.
Off they went, slipping and sliding down the orange plastic and on to the blue tarp we attached to create an extension of the slide. We laughed uproariously as Kelan ran and played, completely undeterred by the grass stuck to his little white fanny and other unmentionable places. It was adorable, purely innocent childhood fun. And if I wasn’t concerned about the freezing temperature of the hose water and scaring the hell out of my neighbors and other passersby’s, I would have stripped down and taken a slid myself.
Lucky for all, I squelched my need for reminiscent childhood fun and went for an adult beverage instead. Returning to the green beach with frosted mugs of ice cold beer, I noticed Kelan had taken leave of the slid and moved on to a bag of extra-large, campfire style marshmallows. There he sat, naked as a jay bird (whatever that actually means) shivering a little as droplets of water dripped from his hair down his cherub like face, his tiny hinny and legs covered in bits of grass and mud as he scarfed down a huge marshmallow, another waiting for prompt consumption in the other hand. It was the picture of a lifetime and of course my phone was dead and the camera is broken.
So I had to write it down, so the picture in my head is recorded somewhere. It was such a beautiful example of childhood innocence that it almost makes me a little sad. After all, our days of naked, green beach slip and sliding, marshmallow eating only last so long. Well, for most of us anyway.