Wednesday, 25 January 2012
What a Mess
Lately, everywhere I've looked I've seen images of kids enjoying messy play. They're playing with vats of slimy spaghetti, sifting their fingers through boxes of beans and rice, and wading in paddling pools full of jelly with wide smiles on their sticky little faces.
And so this morning, after cleaning down the kitchen, I decided to fill a large box with flour and oil, scatter in some shells and invite the boy to come and play.
I watched the flour mould itself beneath his fingers and I watched it scatter itself like snow around the box; I watched it become matted on his knees, bum and shoes and I saw the kitchen floor turn white; I watched it appear on his face and in his hair and I saw him run the full length of the kitchen, leaving a trail of flour in his wake; I felt it sprinkling on my hair, I saw it sticking to my camera and I watched in disbelief as he tried to body-surf in the box.
And as I sat on the floor in a big pile of flour, desperately trying not to loose it over the mess that I'd wilfully created, I thought: I'm either the best mother in the world or just a complete idiot.
And I couldn't for the life of me work out which one it was.