Clean dishes just aren’t worth it….

When I was a kid, my mom had this saying framed in our family room (and if you’re wondering what the difference between living room vs family room is, you’re not alone, but it’s an important distinction):

“Cleaning the house while the children are growing is like shoveling the sidewalk before it stops snowing.”

Can I just say, “Amen”?

Yesterday, I took a few minutes to wash the breakfast dishes while the little ones were occupied.  It went well.   Too well.  Things were unusually calm so I looked around and realized someone was missing.

My boy.

I can’t tell you the feeling of the fear that strikes me whenever I realize I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.

I called his name and looked around a corner.  He came out of the living room with an “I’m not up to anything” look on his face.  When I asked what he was doing, he said, “Nothing.”

That is NEVER good, y’all.

So I followed the trail of trouble to an indoor beach he had made with one of his older sister’s sand-art creations.  Sand was everywhere.  The living room, the hall, the babies’ room.  Anywhere there was a trash can to aim for there was sand on the floor.

So, I swept it all up then walked into the den to find him seated on the floor, surrounded by his little sisters, the three of them floating in a sea of cheese cracker crumbs.

He was sharing.  There’s that.