With the arrival of our first child over thirteen years ago, I was given the false impression that all children were neat. Colin never made a mess. He didn't and still doesn't like dirt. In fact, he really didn't even play with his toys very much. And everything was organized. Every action figure, book, or game had its home and place on some shelf or in some drawer. He knew where everything belonged. He didn't move forward to another activity until the previous one had been put away.
Yes, I guess the joke was on me.
The dumpers have arrived.
Two of them.
During the morning when I am trying to focus my attention on getting through a day of first grade with Lily, I let the dumpers pretty much have the run of the place. It's a big place with many rooms. As long as I don't hear any screaming or crying, I just ignore the sound of the dumping. Sure, my face sort of crinkles up and my shoulders rise up and tighten a bit, but Lily and I have important work to get through. Math sentences to memorize. Special phonics sounds to learn. Those are the priorites, right? I just have to remind myself that it's a blessing to hear them babbling to one another and giggling. I've spent more than enough money on the toys so I should be grateful that they are actually playing with them.



So, during the afternoon hours I just treat the rooms that have been hit by the dumpers as an obstacle course.
I only clean up once a day.
Well, I pay Lily $1 to clean up, but that's another story.