Here's what I mean...

Now I have three boys, and boys are messy little critters. I suspect it wouldn't be that much different if they were girls, as I have distinct memories of mud oozing through my fingers. But, alas, I have boys and they come equipped with extra large, loving hearts, which makes up for the eternally messy exterior. The moment for today involves not-suprisingly messy fingers and a little blond-headed dutch-boy. That would be one of the twins, Andrew. They are 8 years old and recently got the worst haircut I think I've ever seen. They wear it well, though, with the sun-bleached, beach-bum thing they've got going right now. Anyway, we were at a family cookout and we had made our plates and were getting ready to eat. As we were headed to the table, he noticed something gross on the ground and instinctively bent down and picked it up. I winced and ewwed and said that he's going to be eating with those fingers. Now, you and I know what I meant, and should've said, was 'now go wash your hands before eating'. Need I say it? Before I even had the chance to protest, the fingers got cleaned in the most efficient way possible...slurp, in they went, a good lick and out of his mouth they came. With a huge smile, he said "All clean". Oh Yum.