I don't know how much longer my washing machine can take it.

After putting the boys outside to play this morning I went back inside to get their hats. I was gone for no more then, say, 3 minutes when I returned to find this:

In case you didn't get it the first time, here he is again a few minutes later:

There must be some kind of record I can claim - it took Caleb no more then 3 minutes to cover himself from head to toe in dirt. What is it with boys and dirt? Growing up with three sisters, I can't remember a time any of us got this dirty. Even my tomboy sister, who loved getting dirty, chewing bones and wanted to be a daddy when she grew up (but that's another story) didn't get this dirty. Of course it may also have to do with the fact that we grew up in England, where the grass was a wee bit greener then it is out here. We also didn't have a pile of dirt sitting in the back yard just asking to be climbed up and slid on (which, incase you're wondering, is the topsoil for our future lawn).

A few minutes later he was off and running amongst the burrs, attracting more dust with each step:

Surely there must be a limit to the amount of dust the clothes can hold. Maybe I should give the washing machine a break and try the Dyson.

Ahh, my little Dirt Magnet. What is it they say? A little dirt never hurt. I wouldn't have you any other way. :)

ps: it's not a black eye, just more dirt.

:)