When the kids are small, there is a general acceptance that you will drown in plastic toys. You try to order and organize things, and eventually you give up by
admitting justifying that ‘at least they’re creative’ and ‘at least they’re playing with their stuff’.
It all has its time and place, so to speak. We all move beyond the mountain of toys, eventually.
Then the kids get older, and bigger, and you realize with weary surprise that the clutter manages to continue residence in your home. It does seem to wane, a touch, theoretically, from the toddler and preschool days. You may not necessarily have seventeen million mini-figures and bricks taking up space on the main floor even though they have a designated lego area downstairs. What you do have instead is about 15 Beanie Boos strategically arranged just so. Gone are the elaborate roadways for the dinky cars, but now you’re tripping over charging cables every time you turn around.
All I ask of my tweens now is that they put their stuff away when the leave. Especially when the leave for an extended time.
Just now, they left for an activity. I am On The Ball with dinner today, having been proactive and prepared, and so I wanted to watch the news at 5:30 pm. I walk over to the couch and see this:
This is not really a mess. But it is a distraction to me. I cannot just sit down on the couch without spending time moving their stuff out of the way. I have to putter before I can relax.
Would it have been so hard to take the guitar and ukulele and placed them back in their cases? What about the little pick? Wasn’t there a whole lot of drama just the other day about a lost pick? And whose books are those? Why are the scattered across the ottoman?
I’m glad they play their instruments. I’m not glad they leave their stuff all over the place when they leave the house for two hours.
Now I gotta choose if I should avoid the couch and sit at the counter to watch my news, or blog about my first world problem.