Trail Adventures

I am a terrible mother. I almost let my son sink into quicksand yesterday. 

At least, that is the story that he might tell you.  However, it wasn't quicksand, it was mud, and I'm fairly certain that he was in no real danger of anything except possibly losing at least one shoe and getting extremely dirty. 

We were out hiking on our favorite trail, and it was a little muddy because it rained.  OK, scratch that.  It was a lot muddy because it had rained, but only in very specific areas.  Nothing to be overly concerned about, in my opinion; part of the Mom of No's parenting philosophy is that mud is good for you.  It bolsters the immune system, and getting muddy can be fun.  As long as no one gets any of that mud on the inside of the Mom of No's year-old automobile, it's all good.

We got to a section that was a little muddier than usual, and  I found a spot I thought was OK to cross.  I went first, and got across just fine, and wandered ahead a bit to inspect a pretty wildflower (an Eastern bluestar; gorgeous light blue flowers).  I was just about to start taking a picture when I heard:

MOM! MOM! MOM! MOOOOOMMMMMMM!

I thought he'd seen something really cool, like a bobcat, or a great blue heron, or even an alligator (we were near a pond).  It never occurred to me that he might be stuck in mud. 

Me: What? Did you see something good?
Son:  MOM! I'm sinking! In the mud! I'm losing my shoes! I hate this trail!

Then I felt horribly bad.  Here I am, safely on solid ground, investigating this plant, and he's over there, facing certain doom in a huge mud pit.  Also, I don't want him to actually lose his shoes.  Shoes for teenage boys are not cheap.  Don't panic, you're going to be ok, I told him.  By the way, make sure you keep those shoes on your feet.  We need to keep our priorities straight.

We managed to get him out of the mud and onto stable ground.  He was so muddy!  His shoes were caked with mud. His legs were covered in mud. His hands were covered in mud.  Fortunately, his shorts were not covered in mud; he could still sit in my car and not get the seat muddy.  I should have taken a picture of all the mud.  I was also muddy from helping him get out of the mud, although not as muddy as he was.

See? I said to him.  You're ok.  Just a little muddy. No serious harm done.   He glared at me for a minute, and then he said, when I get home I am going to take a shower.  That was music to my maternal ears.  A teenage boy voluntarily taking a shower.  Mom success!

I decided to wait a few minutes before telling him that we'd have to go back through the field of quicksand- I mean, the muddy zone- on the way home.  I might be a terrible mother, but I do know when to keep information to myself.  We did get even more muddy on the way back, but we both lived to tell the tale. 

Even better, I found a towel in the back of my car, so the seats stayed clean.