5 Minute Freewrite - Prompt: my shoe got stuck in the mud

I remember, oh so vividly, the day that that my shoe got stuck in the mud.

My Dad, my uncle and me had gone to my Grandpa's farm to cut down a Christmas tree. It had been cold and snowy in the days before, but today the temperatures were a bit above freezing and things were a bit mucky in the barnyard.

Dad had parked the truck close to the paddock. We needed to cross the barnyard and an old pasture to reach the woods where we would select the best Christmas tree ever. At least in the eyes of a four year old. What did I know from a nice tree?

Dad collected the chainsaw, my uncle the fuel canister and axe, while my Grandpa reached for the small grey toolbox. Being my eager beaver self, I wanted to help out so I pleaded in a way that only four-year-olds do, to carry the toolbox.

Grandpa tried to convince me otherwise, saying it was much too heavy for a small fry like me! Me being the obstinate little red head that I was, I carried on until Grandpa relented and handed the prize to me!

Wow! It was really heavy! I had to use two hands to lug it to the gate of the paddock. But proud me wouldn't let on that maybe I had bitten off more than I could reasonably handle.

I was doing not badly until we hit about midway of the paddock where the muck was becoming more a gelatinous swamp.

I had my one foot out front and the other behind me in a very unladylike like pose when my front foot became sucked in the mire. Think cold, wet muck and most likely a little cow dung mixed in for good measure.

I pulled hard on my shoe, my foot came loose and left my shoe sinking into the sunset. I didn't want to lose my balance and fall face first into that goop, so I automatically put my foot deep into the ooze right next to my sunken shoe!

I wouldn't dare put the precious grey metal box down, for fear of the wrath of my Dad, who had given me one of those looks before he had trudged off.

By now the group of men had gotten far ahead of me and tears started to stream down my face. My Grandpa looked back and saw my predicament. I don't know if he said anything to the others, but as he came trudging back for me, the others never looked back.

Grandpa gently wrapped his massive arms around me and held me until the tears stopped. Then he helped me get my foot unstuck and the offending shoe, swung me up on his shoulders. He grabbed the grey metal tool box like it was a feather weight and started for the house.

I was about to protest since I wanted to be in on the tree cutting, but bit down on my lip and thought better of it. Grandpa gently explained that we need to get dry shoes and socks. Grandma would know what to do.

Grandma saw us returning to the house and met us at the door. She gave Grandpa one of her disapproving looks and he left with a shrug.

I had to get my feet washed in dried by the old wooden stove. Grandma didn't want me to catch a chill. What ever that was.
She found a pair of socks and shoes that were just my size. They had belonged to my mother.

Grandma made me sit in front of the wood stove with my feet on a chair so they would warm up. I got to drink hot cocoa with marshmallows. I don't quite remember how many fresh oatmeal and raisin cookies I ate that afternoon.

I almost think it was worth it to get my shoe stuck in the mud!