Some days - well, to be honest, most days - no matter how well I clean a room, within 10 minutes it looks like a bomb hit it again. As soon as I put all of WeeBee's trains in their basket, he runs into Lowly's room and dumps them all over the floor. I have clean clothes folded in a basket, and Lowly decides to use it to stand up, flipping the basket and herself over onto the floor. My husband decides to throw his dirty clothes into an invisible hamper in the bathroom. And I load up the dishwasher, only to forget to actually turn it on.
It's not that it's time to call in the producers of Hoarders, or Clean House, or whatever spinoff show the cable networks are cranking out these days. It's not like you can't sit on my couch because it's been overtaken by a collection of Taco Bell hot sauce packets, or some other useless thing. But some days, the general "lived in"-ness of the house really gets to me.
But the other morning, just when I was about to go sit in a corner and cry over the pile of laundry that I could swear is increasing and multiplying every time I turn my back, WeeBee wandered by.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"You're cute, Mommy." He then gave me a kiss, and puttered off to find a train, or color a picture, or something.
The laundry situation might be hopeless, but I definitely have the sweetest little boy in the whole world.
A lovely little boy, you are blessed!
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