My toddler girl is the grossest kid I have ever met. She is a slimy, sticky, slippery hunk of chewing, crunching craziness that I used to mind rather greatly, but am now temporarily, if not atypically, accepting.
More than likely, I may be encouraging it because she is so unlike anyone else in our home. The change is, at least, satisfying.
It goes beyond wall-drawing and scattered toys and toilet papering, though, she is well-versed in those activities.
Jai thoroughly enjoys dirt. When I go home and pull up in the car and Jrue opens the door that connects the kitchen to our garage, Jai breaks out of the house and does a fast-paced, bowlegged strut down the driveway. She stops to inspect dust puffs and ant hills on her way, carefully inserting her pincer grasp like little chopsticks into any available nook or pile or collection.
She stuffs her findings into her mouth, much to our dismay, before we can think to utter, “Jai, what do you have in your hand?”
The baby doesn’t mind applying a mud smear across her face and will fight someone attempting to wipe it clean. She would much rather stay in a dirty diaper, kicking and screaming when being changed. Alternatively, she has a hand, or tiny fingers, around her diaper tape to detach and probe. Jai is a wild, exploratory eater, taking great care (or lack thereof) to include food in her hair and down into her diaper. She likes to find a way to the fireplace or choose garbage from the trashcan or taste toothpaste, soapsuds, or rubber. Anything worth squishing is in her hands. Anything dough-y or pliable brings a happy glaze of contentment in her eyes.
But her sloppy tendencies go against the ideal dictations of society regarding girls, which poorly reflects on me as her mother, correct? Yes, she encompasses sugar and spice and sweetness and all that jazz, but under a layer of self-imposed crud. She is well-behaved within reasonable standards of a 1-year-old, but flocks to filth, prompting me to swear off pretty dresses for more functional materials.
Oh well. Mazel tov.
Should I wear this as a badge of honor? Take a knee and pledge loyalty to its existence? Be knighted by its side, declaring allegiance to fight wars and bare my soul in honor?
It’s so cool now to be a well-rounded girl. Little ladies can be Superman and the President simultaneously. They can be race car drivers and run food trucks and discover cures to ailments. All of these, and more passionate purposes, are messy.
When I was growing up, it was called “being a tomboy.” Meh.