Boy: A Noise With Mud On It

A Saturday of sunshine.

Absolutely lovely.

Let's go hiking!

We opened up the local hiker's guide that Eric printed off the internet,

25 hikes--most of which are within a 15 minute drive.

We picked our trail.

It seemed to be an easy 3 miles.

But we didn't take into account
all of the MUD.

Puddles.

Every ten feet.

We called it an adventure and manuevered our way along the trail,
trying to avoid the stinging nettle (oh wait, I didn't)
that was growing alongside our path.
After something like Kacin's 20th slip, trip, and fall
he gave up trying to avoid the mud
and just trudged straight on through.

We kept good spirits until about half way along.
Maybe he was tired of his bum and knees landing in the mud,
maybe he was hungry,
maybe his feet were getting sore,
but whatever it was
a little monster was awakened.

A screaming, meltdown monster.
I am sure the loudest that neck of the woods
had ever seen.
And it would not be tamed.
So we captured it.
And carried it home.

The only way we could get it into the car,
without covering the inside of the car in mud,
was re-naming it Captain Underpants,
stripping it down,
tying a cape around it's neck,
and then buckling it in.
Something about sitting in your underpants,
driving down the road with the window down
while your makeshift cape blows around you in the breeze
seemed to do the trick.
It was all smiles and laughs on the way home.

For the record,
the other small, male member of the car
deemed this last act
very inappropriate.