Adventures with Grandsons

Our grandsons, ages seven, five and two-and-a-half live on the family ranch about five hours away in northern New Mexico.  We visit frequently and when we do, I usually go on a hike with the boys through the trees and brush over rocks, up hills, and down the creek.  We enjoy these adventures exploring, discovering, pretending.  This last week, they wanted to go down the hill to a pond formed by a dam across the road filled by recent heavy rains. We all knew that when boys are near water, they are likely to get muddy, so they wore old shoes and boots for this adventure;  I, however, did not.  The boys wanted to ride their bikes down the winding narrow road for the thrill of speed and turns. I drove the Expedition to the pond to bring their bikes back up the hill and take the youngest with me. 

Once at the pond they located flat rocks for skipping or finding the biggest ones they could lug to the edge to toss in.  I do not think there is any limit to how many rocks boys can throw into water.  The edges of the pond near the dam are steep, so the two older boys started around the edges of the pond where they could get closer to the water.  A sand bar at the far end of the pond offered a chance to get close to the water; this area was sandy and only slightly muddy.  I observed their route and declined to come with them because I had on shoes that I did not want to get dirty, but I saw no reason they could not proceed.  Soon the oldest hollered out that he was stuck and the middle grandson echoed his plight. They tried to help each other pull their feet from the muck but to no avail.  A grandma to the rescue was forthcoming.

I took off my shoes, rolled up my jeans to mid-calf and went out to help.  Since I am quite a bit heavier than these small boys, I sank to the edges of my rolled-up jeans quite quickly.  With effort, I pulled each foot out of the muck to reach the boys, shaking my head at our predicament.  The youngest was wearing cowboy boots, so when he pulled his foot up, the boot remained in the mud, but I could pull each mud-encased empty boot out and to set him on firmer ground with his boots in hand with instructions to scrape the mud off.   He had on socks, so his feet were still clean.  The older boy had on athletic type shoes that sucked in the mud the moment his foot pulled free. I had to quickly dig down to the shoe or there would be no chance of finding it.  Once he was on firmer ground as well, I brought his shoes to the shore.  We found sticks to scrape the gooey mess from their shoes and boots.  I scooped handfuls of mud from inside the shoes and then rinsed them in the pond water so he could get them back on.

With both boys rescued and their shoes and boots at least wearable, I had to figure a way to clean my feet so I could put my shoes back on.  We tried putting rocks down to the edge of the pond to give me a path to the water.  The boys searched for larger rocks and packed them down to the edge.  We thought we had a good path set, but when I set foot on these, the rocks started sliding into the water, throwing me off balance onto my bottom.  We all laughed at our hilarious failed efforts.  The boys were getting thirsty from being out in the hot sun and working so hard packing rocks, and I decided that I was not going to be able to get my feet clean to put my shoes back on.  I began slowly picking my way through the pasture around the edge of the pond back to the car.  The cactus, yucca, dried sunflowers and rocks along the way demanded carefully placement of each foot step.

Once back at the car, I loaded the bikes  and boys and headed back to the house.  There I scrapped dried mud off my legs and feet.  The boys brought me a bowl of water and I rinsed the mud off to get cleaned up.  We all laughed, got a cook drink and shared our adventure with their mom, dad and papa.  This might have been the biggest mess we have been in to date, but it was a memorable adventure!