Knowing When to Admit Defeat

Monday was a lovely sunny, spring-like day here in Oregon. The boys had been relatively well-behaved as they sat doing their schoolwork. They asked for a break. I agreed and of they went.

I was sitting at the table (in direct line-of-sight), when something in my gut said, "Look out the glass door." I turned my head to discover 3 shirt-less boys and a water hose. I said it was nice...but not that nice. It was only 52 degrees. I opened the door, stammering over my words the way parents do when they are attempting not to say everything they are thinking, and yelled for the ringleader to explain himself. I had him get dry clothes for everyone involved. And then I sat down, self-satisfied at my own adept handling of the situation.

HA! I looked out the door again.

Now, everyone was covered in the freshly made MUD! Mud? MUD! O, seriously, MUD? AGG.
My handsome trio were proudly displaying their newest find (an extremely long earthworm) and excitedly telling me home they had made him a MUD CASTLE. Mud Castle.....I should've known.

I didn't fuss at them at all. They had won the battle of tidiness. Bowing out of the war gracefully, I returned to my puzzle and tea.