I cleaned my boy's room today. It wasn't super messy (let's not talk about the playroom), just a few piles of clothes here and there, and the usual smattering of matchbox cars. When everything was in it's place my son smiled and exclaimed, "Momma! You cleaned the room! It's all clean and nice and cozy! YAY!"
And then I blinked.
Right now, I'm sitting in a mess of police cars and sandbox shovels and sippy cups and LEGOS. I swore to my husband that it was CLEAN five minutes ago, REALLY!
I guess I'm trying to say that two year old's may say they like a clean house, but what they really like is cleared space to spread their mess on.
The gift of today is parasitical messiness. Because a messy house means children, and because when he goes to visit Grandma overnight, the toys and stuffed animals seem like ghosts, and I miss him and his GIANT mess.
Although, I will confess that I wouldn't mind it if people would STOP unrolling the toilet paper when I'm not looking. A song from my childhood has just sprung to mind, and since this is such a personal blog, I shall share it with you. Ahem.
"Stranded. Stranded on the toilet bowl!
What do you do when your stranded...and you don't have a roooollll....?"
I'll stop there. It gets worse, and since this is such a tasteful blog, we must remember propriety.