So Margaret has become a devotee of dirt. I seem to have convinced her (mostly) not to pour it over other people's heads, but in her imagination, the loose dust is pixie dust, and so the thing that you do with pixie dust is scatter it over people so that magical transformations can take place. Obviously.
This can be a problem, because she and Ellie and sometimes I come in from the yard with a comprehensive coating of dust all over our persons. And although I can tell that I have or haven't gotten the dirt out of the children's scalps, I can't see with me. So it makes it an adventure every day.
Margaret, when she is tired of flinging dirt around, dances in the dirt, does somersaults, rolls herself in it so that she can achieve maximum coverage.
I'm sure it's good for her, although I'm not sure that the thrice-daily bath is doing her much good. Clearly, we need to get furniture that is slightly more mud-colored, so that we can skip the midday bath for the sake of her poor, dry skin.