A woman knocked on the door the other day to compliment me on the landscaping. I never answer the door unless I am expecting UPS or flowers, but it was hard to pretend I wasn't home as a very naked and filthy Baby Boy went screaming past her.
Our yard has no grass. The people we bought the house from decided that 2-acres of mulch was as low-maintenance as they could get. Darling Husband sees all the money he saves on mowing. I see a fire hazard smooshed together with a house that always, ALWAYS has mulch tracked all through it.
Baby Boy decided the button of mine that gets the most attention is the one marked "Don't Roll in the G*&^$@M Mulch!"
So in an ode to what a long and dirty summer this will be, here is my version of Adele's song, renamed...
Rolling in the Dirt.
There's a young boy rolling in the mulch
Tossing handfuls at me when I call him in for lunch.
Finally I had the floors shining crystal clear
Here's the mop, I'll wring it out and put it 'way, my dear.
I see how you leave, naked as a bee
Diving headfirst into the pile 'neath that tree.
There's a young boy rolling in the dirt
Reaching such a filthiness, the bathroom drain will hurt.
I'll never have it clean,
Rolling in the dirt.
You brought the yard in the house
And where is your shirt?
Baby, I hate to keep you locked inside
But this constant dirt is impossible to hide.
Why your father is go against the grass,
I will never know, but mulch is up my...
I'll never have it clean,
Rolling in the dirt.
Mulch is wall to wall
I'll buy stock in Pine-sol.
But you play in it, you play it in, you played it to the deep.
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