This stranger child is here to visually represent my youngest’s recent foray into living with filth.
Yesterday we all banded together in seeming solidarity to tackle his bedroom, which trite and cliche though it sounds, looked as though a hurricane had hit it. The only redeeming consideration is that the kids aren’t allowed to have food in their bedrooms and so I was spared those foody remnants, at least. O though I had remembered to take before and after photos to document my misery. If you knew what that bedroom looked like when we started, you most certainly would have felt your own heart lurch in discouragement.
His mess perfectly represented his great passions for paper crafts, K’nex, Lego and Meccano. You know, all the things that are as small as can possibly be imagined and yet still be classified as children’s toys. There were snips of paper as far as the eye could see and then even farther than that. Little bits of near-microscopically sized paper bits everywhere you looked. One could have (and o, one did!) spent a 30 minutes on the corraling of said paper bits.
We have some friends who parent the very opposite sort of child, though he is of a similar age. He tells his Dad each night that he can’t go to sleep until his room is tidy. And the kicker is that he really feels he can’t! He’s nine years old and he can’t sleep until his room is tidy. This child grows ever more dear in my heart the longer I dwell upon his tidiness propensities. MY child lives in and creates filth wherever he goes, but this neat little boy can’t sleep until his room is tidy. I can’t stop marveling at the beauty of it.
Yesterday (and most days) I bent over and picked up and bent over and picked up ad nausem until my lower back prickled as usual with the ache of it. Paper airplanes and origami are slowly killing me over time. Or at the very least, they’ll see me in traction some day soon.