This post has probably been done before. I can almost guarantee it, but it's really on my mind tonight as I'm sitting on my couch surrounded by toys, books, clothes, and even cracker crumbs.
Don't get me wrong, most days the mess makes me want to rip my hair out or crawl in bed and never come out. Especially the messes that happen in places I've just finished tidying. You know how they say little boys are speedy? Well, there's nothing they do faster than Tasmanian-devilling a room you literally just got done cleaning.
But tonight, I'm sitting here admiring the tiny-finger smudged glass porch door, the gnawed on books strewn carelessly around the room, and the trail of cheddar bunnies that leads from the kitchen to the hallway.
I'm sure you're wondering why I'm admiring a pig sty. I'll tell you.
Each little part of this mess is a memory. That book that now has a page missing? Monkey sat for over ten minutes reading it to himself in his precious babbling voice (which I'm sure made perfect sense to him). Those smudges on the back door? He made those while peering wondrously out at the pouring rain, completely enthralled and dancing to the rhythm. That mitten laying curled on the ground is there because he found it in his room and brought it to me to put on his hand, because he gets a kick out of trying to pick things up with slippery hands. My husband's shoe is clear across the room from where it should be, because Monkey thought it would make a great hat, then a great drumstick.
Each and every bit of this mess is a part of a small adventure my son had today, a complete wonder that sparked his imagination and enticed his growing mind. Sure, it'll be a pain to clean up once I finally decide to get off my rump and do it, but for now, I'm treasuring all these simple memories of today. Tomorrow may not be so simple or easy to love.
Holy cow, what a beautiful way you have with words! I loved reading this!
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