A Little Dirt Never Hurt Anybody

When Whitney was a little girl, I was ever so determined not to let her get dirty. I just couldn't stand the dirty face and hands, the spilled food on the clothes or that red Georgia dirt on her shoes. Half my time, it seems, was spent chasing her with a moist wipe or a washrag. When I would pick her up from daycare in the summertime, she would look like a little Indian, with red dirt all over her skin and her clothes. There were times in the bathtub when I'd pour water on her head and rivulets of mud would stream down her face. I couldn't wait every evening to get her bathed and dressed in her nice clean jammies. I remember one time being at my grandparents' house, and the kids outside playing in the yard under the watchful eye of my grandfather. Here I go with a wet rag to wipe the dirt off her face, when Daddy Bill barks at me "Caffy, that youngun's gonna get rickets if you don't let her get a little dirt on her!!" It tickled me so much that I didn't bother to tell him that rickets is a vitamin D deficiency, and that the "d" doesn't stand for dirt. I got the message loud and clear, and tried to lighten up a little bit with my obsession. Thankfully, Whitney never contracted "rickets", and I learned that A Little Dirt Never Hurt Anybody. Which is a really good thing, because nowadays I'm treated quite often to the upturned dirty little faces of my two precious grandchildren. Especially if there's a camera nearby. The cuter the pose, the dirtier the face, it seems. They are very adept escape artists after meals or snacks, and Corey especially hates to get his nose wiped. I have a box full of pictures that, with some Photoshop face-washin', could land these kids on the cover of magazines. I have Photoshop, but haven't learned how to use it. But you know what? A Little Dirt Never Hurt Anybody. And here are a few photos to prove it: