In an effort to keep Clark entertained while I cleaned up a bit this afternoon, I put him in his chair and gave him half of a pound of flour to do whatever he fancied. What I didn't realize was that it would be the most thrilling thing Clark had ever experienced in his little lifetime, and I got to listen to him squeal and laugh all afternoon which turned just an ordinary day into one of the better ones.
As for the cleaning of the house, well, it didn't happen. I was having way too much fun soaking in the moment and watching Clark frolic in the flour. I wouldn't be surprised if 50 years from now, I can still vividly remember my first born son playing in my baking goods.
When I attempted to clean it up, Clark got even more excited. He thought I was sweeping the flour into nice, big piles for him to destroy again. He would belly flop onto the piles of flour and roll around and laugh hysterically.
I wish you could hear the sweet little squeaks that left this boy's mouth this afternoon. It would be the equivalent of you or I rolling around in a pile of hundred dollar bills, I'm sure.
And no flour experience could be complete without making snow angels on the kitchen floor.
Cleaning up the flour was no easy task, especially after Clark ran through the entire house, jumped all over me, rolled all over the couches, stood on tables, touched mirrors, etc. And I'll definitely be cleaning it up for the next six months, but whatever.
Life is short. And wallowing around in flour is fun.