Let me introduce you to my friend, Colin, the sloth. He is 10. Maybe a little younger, I haven’t asked.
Colin likes the dirt, but we don’t like him to drag it inside.
“Colin, were you in the mud?” I asked.
He shook his head, no.
“Let me see your hands,”
They matched his knees: mud covered. Something was suspect about the whole situation.
Colin got upset that he was caught, and wanted to be alone.
He hung around the bottom of a brick wall on the side of the black top. It is a breeding ground for mud and dirt.
“Colin, be careful,” I said. He was right on the edge of falling into a pile of mud.
He wiggled his body into the grass, but continued to bury his face in dirt.
I gave up. I spent the rest of the afternoon making sure a basketball didn’t hit him.