Apparently my daughters and I are in a contest: they’ve determined to make things as messy as possible, while I desperately try to keep things as clean as possible.
Each day they race through the house like a swirling tornado, one on foot and the other on hands-and-knees. No nook or cranny can escape their messifying, stickifying, crumbefying presence. Meanwhile, I trail behind their wake pushing a vacuum with one hand and juggling cleaning supplies in the other.
Today I was falling behind in points significantly, but managed to pull ahead during naptime. Resisting the urge to sit down and rest, I busied myself instead scrubbing, washing, vacuuming, spraying, wiping, organizing, folding, and generally gloating in my triumph.
But before I had a chance to finish and revel in my spick-and-span glory, I heard it — the cry. True, I was ahead for a while, but in the end they had me beat. They always did, I suppose. Ah well, it’s all par for the course, right? 🙂