The Shirt Stained with Tomato Seeds, The Face Covered in Sand and the Hands Black

But he wears the biggest smile

Photo by author — image created through Pencil Photo Sketch

“Oh my god, how dirty is Eric?” I just shrug my shoulders and respond with “He’s having a happy childhood,” waving off my husband’s concern. I’ll be the one scrubbing off that dirt later in the shower, but for now, it’s none of my concern.

In a world where a dot in the face is an unwanted imperfection of someone’s whole appearance, I try to raise my child with zero worries about what others think of oneself. I spent too much time in my younger years wondering and worrying what others thought of me (and sometimes still do) and hope my child won’t have to go down that path.

So, here we are. Two humans walking barefoot across sand, grass, cement, and whatever else the ground offers for us. Looking at the few tomato plants growing outside our motorhome, Eric points at one of the red ones, grabs it, and stuffs it into his mouth. I just shake my head thinking back at a few minutes earlier when I tried to force-feed him a few store-bought tomatoes. But they don’t taste the same. I get him.

I sit down in the camping chair and watch Eric play in the sand surrounding our camping spot, alias temporary home. While moving sand from one bucket to another, dust blows up in the air, and with the help of some wind, quite a lot of that sand sticks to his sweaty and tomato juice-soaked face.

A little later, Eric shifts his attention to the tires of our home. While his dad needs a specific tool to measure the pressure, Eric simply puts his hands onto the rubber and knows if they are good or need “some work”. He then just knocks on the tires until nodding satisfied. Whatever that was about is something I might worry about later.

For now, I sit back and smile.