When I was little I had a special place in my heart for the mud pie. By the age of about 4, I was all about mixing water and mud and then making it pretty with tiny pink blossoms that used to blow down from the tree outside our back door in the springtime. So I was not at all suprised when given 2 inches of water and her beach bucket set, along with 10 minutes outside alone on the patio... well... that she did this.
It's genetic. And- it's good fun. Except now I'm the mom and I look at name brand pants and white shoes and I let out a little sigh. This non-helicopter parenting thing is harder than it looks.
At least she didn't try to convince me it was real pie and make me eat it. She was just content to mix it. Which is awesome- because it was April's Fools Day so I might have fallen for it.
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