My kitchen ALWAYS contains Cheerios . . .
A garishly colored plastic car resides next to my bed, along with a cloth book that begins, "Singing, swinging little monkey lives high above the ground . . ."
The washing machine is always running . . .
There's a miniature wooden barn on the floor of the living room . . .
The kitchen floor is currently home to a plastic alligator with wheels, a wooden hammering bench with pegs, and a couple of crumpet rings that the MiL has not used for crumpet-making in a decade but that roll most satisfyingly across the sloping floor . . .
And my shoes can be found in any room downstairs, as a certain small-footed someone is fond of stepping into them where they are left next to the door so he can clump around and pretend he's big.
Yup. Must be a toddler in the house.
2 comments:
That's okay. I'm pennies off being a senior citizen and I'm sharing my office with a big yellow plastic truck, the bottom drawner in my kitchen is filled with teeny tiny little cups and saucers and pots and pans and I just found uncooked macaroni under my bed. You are not alone.
Definitely. That's part of the fun of having kiddos.
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