(Writer's Choice – dirty)
Thank you for reviewing my story.
I don't own Bones.
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Entering the house from the garage, Booth walked into the living room and was quick to notice small muddy foot prints leading from the front door down the hallway. Trying to contain his anger, he followed the prints to his son's bedroom.
Calmly, he stood in the doorway and watched Henry sitting in the middle of his room with a small mound of mud in front of him. The boy was running his Matchbox wrecker up the side of the mound and stopped it just short of the top where a small mustang was sitting, "Don't worry, I'll rescue you." Placing the Mustang on the attached hook to the wrecker he pulled the wrecker down the mound of mud with the Mustang in tow.
"Henry, what are you doing?" His arms folded across his chest, Booth glared at the mess on the wooden floor.
Startled, Henry looked up and patted the muddy mound. "I'm playing wrecker Daddy."
Annoyed with his son, Booth entered the room and towered over the boy, "Henry, why do you have a bunch of mud on the floor? Your shoes are muddy and so are your clothes. You left muddy foot prints from the front door into here and now I find a pile of mud in your room."
Standing, Henry took off his shoes and smiled, "Oops."
His eyes boring into his son, Booth shook his head, "You can't bring dirt into the house, Henry. Do you know what your mother is going to do when she sees this mess?"
His lips starting to quiver, Henry shook his head, "No, Daddy. What will she do?"
Closing his eyes, Booth fought to be patient with the seven year old boy, "It won't be good, Buddy. . . . Look, we'll clean this mess up before she and Christine get home. You can't bring mud and dirt into the house. That stuff has to stay outside. Do you understand? You're seven years old. I shouldn't have to tell you something like this."
Not really sure why he was in trouble, Henry nodded his head, "It's cold outside Daddy. I wanted to play but it's too cold besides you never said I couldn't bring mud into the house."
A little shocked at the boys' logic, Booth growled, "You have to be kidding me. I never told you could bring an elephant into the house, but I'd hope you have sense to know you can't do that either." Trying to be patient and failing, Booth rubbed his forehead, "Look . . . you have to play with the stuff already in the house. You aren't allowed to bring outside stuff inside the house. Okay? Outside things have to stay outside." Realizing it could have been worse, Booth turned to walk towards the door. Pausing he looked back, "As soon as we clean up this mess, you are going to take a bath."
Appalled, Henry pleaded, "No, Daddy. It's not bath time."
"Sorry, Henry. You're full of mud." Booth noticed the tears staring to slide down his son's cheeks and sighed, "And crying won't help. I'd rather not have to listen to Bones complaining about the mess you made while I was supposed to be watching you. By the way, where did you get the mud?"
Sadly, Henry looked at his small mountain of mud and sighed, "The ground is too hard to make a hole, so I got this from Mrs. Rimmer's garden, next door."
Rolling his eyes, Booth turned and left the room. "Great . . . just great."
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Any good?