Never mind what you've heard

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. I think in this case it's the t-shirt.

While Rob was out in Pennsylvania a few weeks ago, the big snow we got melted and our alley was chockablock with mud puddles just ready for the jumping. Even this mess-avoiding Mama couldn't deny her child the pleasure of a romp through the mud.

True to form, the adventure started before we even left the house. That's when I discovered this wonderful work of art on my sister's kitchen wall. She could not have been prouder. (Relax, it's chalk.)



Here she is demonstrating her best mud-flinging moves. It took some perfecting, let me tell you.


And here she stands in all her glory. There is nothing* I don't love about this picture, and I think it might be the closest thing to the real Sara I've ever seen in a photo: hand-me-down boots two sizes too big and a Tinkerbell ringer shirt with a not-even-close-to-matching sweater she had to wear because it came from her Aunt Trish; messy hair totally blinged out with who knows how many pretties; and a cheap but highly prized white plastic cross (proclaiming "Jesus [hearts] Me" in gold letters, or course) that she picked up in Sunday school at a church we were visiting.

This is, without a doubt, every bit my kid. And I love her so much it's crazy.



*Nothing that a little better camera work on her mother's part couldn't fix... darn you, soft focus!