Is it really genetic?

How do boys know they like the way dirt tastes?

 Peter V. tells me he used to eat it on purpose as a kid. He claims it can taste really good. What awes me is the sheer elation Jack has when he gets within reach of a dirt clod. Dirt sucker. Dirt ball. Dirt chalk. Dirt crumbleable fun for him. He spent hours this last week playing in the garden as Stephen, Jon, and I built it. He learned how to turn around and climb off of the deck just so he could sit in the middle of the dirt. He is happy dirty. This week has actually earned the baths. Deep down inside of me there is this little thrill of "my son is a true dirt-lovin' boy."

 After repeatedly tasting and spitting out dirt he finally toned down the enthusiasm for eating it. It only took a dozen times before he was shaking his head "no" even while raising it to his mouth. Apparently he was trying to counsel himself out of the inevitable because the dirt still makes it to his taste buds more than they make it to mine!

This was also the day he got a stain on these cute pants that I really can't get out. What do they put in this dirt anyhow?

To top it all off, the bus doubles as a dump truck! I will post pictures of the actual garden before, during, and after once my mom gets home tonight and we get to see her reaction. I love sitting out front now.

Also, Jack is the only one that doesn't tell me I ordered too much dirt. It is nice to not be wrong all alone.