Summer's End

On Sunday, we had a big rainstorm, a true toad strangler. In the gutter across the street, the water tends to back up because of bad drainage problems from a nearby sorority. Lots of dirt, leaves and sticks get washed down the gutter, plugging the stormwater drain. If things back up too much, the water will overflow across the street and wash down our driveway, taking much of it along for the ride.
So, during a lull in the rain, Clara, Margaret and I ventured out. They in their rain coats and rain boots, me in my sandals, shorts and running jacket. I had a flatblade shovel, they had their hands. Clara, alas, was wearing her white church dress. I explained to them what we needed to do. I scraped the gutter with the shovel and threw the mud onto the grass of the yards next door and across the streets. We used our hands to pick out the leaves, grass and sticks from around the drain. The water began to flow faster and stronger, and finally, the little girls couldn't stand it. They abandoned their posts and began making mud cakes, mud pies and mud sandwiches, all for my consumption. I ate a few, paying them with hand slaps.
Across the street, I found even deeper mud. As I began cleaning it out of the gutter, the girls suddenly went wild. They flopped into the shallow, muddy water. Muck and water got into their boots, in their hair and, dern, all over Clara's white dress (which is now oxycleaned and bleached white again). They were just cackling and going nuts. Clara began patting mud around my ankles. It started to rain, which wasn't a problem, but when it started to thunder, I called a halt to the riot. We walked to the back door, they stripped down, I toweled them off and marched them into the tub.
All in all, it was great fun. There's something wonderful about mud. Which must be why people will pay $$$ for a mud bath, no?
The rain has brought cooler weather. Which means sweaters in the morning when they go to school.
We had to separate them. Clara is now in a different pre-school class from Margaret. Because of her fine motor skills delays, Margaret gets special education services and occupational services from the local school district. Free. Her special ed teacher noticed that Clara was far too invested in Margaret and her outcomes. I was concerned because when I would ask Clara about school, her response always centered on what Margaret had done that day. Not what she had done. Clara seems to have skipped across the hall with no problems. Margaret, on the other hand, is back to her former pooping problems. I think now it's in reaction to Clara leaving her. Every day, she asks if she can go into Clara's classroom, and I have to say no. Margaret's classroom is much more structured than Clara's. I am hoping things straighten out, because we seemed to be over the hump with Tita and her problems. I don't want to go back.
On Saturday, I am going to Chicago for more than a week. Wish Gene luck!