Chapter 5
When Noah turned seven in March,
he announced that he wanted a mud-run birthday party,
an idea that immediately gave my mother mild palpitations.
He wanted an obstacle course in the backyard,
complete with crawling under ropes,
jumping over hay bales,
and a massive pit of actual,
literal mud.
I did not hesitate for a single second,
telling him that it was a brilliant idea,
and setting to work gathering supplies.
Grant spent an entire Saturday digging the mud pit,
filling it with water from the garden hose,
and testing the consistency with a shovel.
When the day of the party arrived,
the sky was a brilliant,
cloudless blue,
and our yard looked like a military training ground.
Noah's friends arrived in old,
ratty clothes,
their faces already flushed with intense excitement.
Maris pulled into the driveway,
and Avery stepped out of the car,
wearing faded sweatpants,
and a t-shirt that had seen better days.
I remembered the vineyard party,
the pristine dresses,
and the strict rules about keeping clean,
and I smiled at the absolute contrast.
Kyle surprised everyone by tying a bandana around his head,
declaring himself the official course referee,
and blowing a plastic whistle loudly.
The children descended into absolute chaos,
slipping and sliding through the wet dirt,
and laughing with a wild,
feral joy.
Finn,
predictably,
threw himself into the mud pit immediately,
coating himself from head to toe in thick,
brown sludge.
Avery hesitated for a brief moment,
standing on the edge of the pit,
looking back at Maris for approval.
Maris did not offer a warning,
nor did she hand over a towel.
She simply gave Avery a massive thumbs up,
and yelled for her to jump in.
Avery leaped,
splashing mud in every direction,
and screaming with pure delight.
At the end of the afternoon,
we hose the children down in the driveway,
handing out dry towels,
and serving slices of a slightly lopsided chocolate cake.
Kyle had mud splattered across his cheek,
and Maris was barefoot on the wet concrete,
holding a paper plate of cake.
I looked around at the joyful,
filthy mess we had created,
and felt a deep sense of healing wash over me.
This was what childhood was supposed to look like,
unrestricted,
messy,
and completely free of adult anxieties.
We had given Noah a day he would never forget,
and in the process,
May you like
we had washed away another layer of our old,
restrictive family rules.
