Playing house

Yesterday, while I was evoking arthritis in the fingers making friendship bracelets, the kids abandoned me and went outside to play in the rain.  As I was intent on (read:  could not stop) the task at hand, I paid little to no attention to them.

Finally, I looked up to relieve the neck cramp I'd gotten from being hunched over for 8 hours straight and saw the children outside, struggling with a full bucket of soapy water.  They were lugging it over to the play set.  Also with a stack full of (clean white) washcloths.  In the 8-year-old's defense, I believe I granted permission, but what do I know?  I was trying not to mess up my bracelet.

What were they doing, you ask?

Cleaning their play set. 

They have been playing "Little House on the Prairie" for days now and the play set has become their log cabin.  So, they washed it, like any good adult does (not this adult, but hey, whatever).  It was so adorable, I had to stop my bracelet-making (which was going horribly wrong anyway) to watch.  The awesome neighbors' kids were over, too.  Imagine a 2-year-old with a dirty (yet soapy) towel, washing down a slide. 

A.Dor.Able.  

8-year-old:  I never knew it was this fun to clean.
Me:  Oh?  If you're looking for something to clean...
8-year-old:  I mean, with water and stuff. 

If they're this excited about cleaning, I'll give them things to clean.  With water even!  They have a perfectly cleanable bathroom upstairs just waiting for them.

Hey, kids?  Where'd you go?