Guilt no more home, part uhnh

Mud.

There are few words to describe the back and side yards of the humble abode of Superguy, Messy Bessy, and their five growing children (Fifi, Champ, Sweetums, Truckster, and Kewpie).

The grass, which came to us five years ago already well on its way to becoming a guilt-no-more lawn, barely held on throughout last summer, and then received what just might have been its death warrant when we decided to park cars on it for the State Fair last August.

When the unseasonable, unreasonable and totally undeserved six inches of heavy wet snow we received on April 1 ("Fools' Day") melted, the children put on shorts and sandals (I kid you not; we're a guilt-no-more family) and went out.

The back hall looked like a joke, and the children were like little cartoon children, smudged and smeared, bare legs blackened, Hollywood guttersnipe faces glowing.

However, the backyard looked like a dump. The ground was soft enough for wonderful holes to be dug, which were dug. There was (and probably still is, I'm not going to go check) a broken wooden chair over by the tree, flattened cardboard boxes strewn around, milk jugs, garden tools, an old bike with training wheels, etc etc. Underneath which, the barely visible grass was swimming in gooey melting mud. The side yard was the same, except without any grass at all.

If I had a camera and knew how to post a photo, I'd do it, except that I'd be too embarrassed.

No one on this block has to worry. The guilt-no-more family lives here!