How you know you’re raising them right

 
Today I cut the grass. Everyone, please clap for me. As a side effect, I got dirty. You see, cutting grass isn’t exactly a clean job. It’s not the dirtiest, nor the toughest job in the world, but you may get dirty. 

While I was putting Tom to bed tonight, he kept pointing to the line of grass around my ankle where my boots stopped protecting me from the grass attempting to plaster itself to my leg.

“Daddy dirty,” he pronounced, continuously. 

Ignoring him, I went through the rest of the bed time ritual of getting him into pajamas, brushing his teeth, and reading him a story. After story time, he again said, “Daddy dirty.”

“Yea, I know bud, I’m ewwy.”

All the sudden he runs around his dresser and starts fiddling with something or other. When I look up he’s standing there with a box of wipes. 

“Are these because Daddy is dirty?”

A head nod.

“Thanks bud.”