I wasn't the type that said my kids were never going to roll in the mud...but when it came down to it, I used to panic a little when Elliott was a toddler and would dig in the potted plants on my dad's back porch. I cringed as I cleaned dirt out of every crack and crevice (inside and outside his diaper) during his bath that night.
I think I have relaxed a little since then. Take this conversation last week with Emory:
Me: *as Emory throws down a blob of something* Emory, was that poo?
Me: Don't pick up poo
Emory: Yeah, it was POO!
Emory's Aunt: Well don't lick your fingers until you wash your hands.
Emory: It was duck poo.
Me: It was duck poo?
Emory: Yeah, not chicken poo. It was duck poo.
I didn't wonder how my 2.5 year old knew the difference between chicken and duck poo, nor did I flinch or freak out or rush him inside to sanitize him.
Yes, I'd say I've relaxed a lot!
I suppose a child can play with bird poo anywhere, but there are experiences you really can't have anywhere else. My boys were already in bed, but last night I watched my first animal birth. I never thought I would care to watch something like that, but it was a very interesting experience. It was also very precious to watch the kid try to stand up on his tiny little legs!