Today it was a weird weather day in Hong Kong. Not too warm, but warmer than it has been the last few days, and super humid. So humid the air is sticky and it feels like the middle of summer. So humid the windows are fogged up and you cannot see outside. So humid that everything is wet. Everything, especially, that a little toddler touches.
We started off our day like normal, with the around-the-house playing, reading all the books, and so on. Then, on we went to the main square, where it is nice for the little guy to go and run around before his nap.
Off he went, exploring the square, falling down, getting up, leaning over to look in the fountain, and so on. And in the process, he got dirty. DIRTY. Muddy. Filthy. When it is dry, things don’t stick to kids so much, but when it is wet, everything is stuck, leaving a mark of the exploration that has come before.
I was on the phone with my brother, and at one point when the little guy turned around, I saw that he was super dirty from head to toe, with wet pants and an orange fleece jacket that was now brown, and I realized that he was “that kid.” You know, that kid you see and you silently judge the parents because they obviously never do laundry? You know, that kid who the parents have no control over, otherwise they would be sitting perfectly eating a mess-free snack in their tuxedo? You know, “that kid.” The one who when he/she comes near your kid, you think, “oh boy, I hope my son/daughter does not get sick from that kid.” So this morning, the little guy was “that kid.”
After he got completely dirty, he proceeded to the fountain, where he decided not to listen to me, and stuck his foot into the water, and then proceeded to cry because it was cold and uncomfortable. Then his grand finale was to fall into a puddle of muddy water. Luckily I had a change of clothing with me, so I proceeded to do the clothing switch before his nap, so when he was napping he looked like a perfect little angel. Little did everyone know that just minutes earlier, he was “that kid.”