The time to start anew. To brush off the affects the winter doldrums have on your cleaning habits. To turn your house upside down, inside out and make it feel like a whole new place.
It used to be one of my favorite times of year. Then I had a child.
And heard the words “the mess didn’t make itself” come out of my mouth. I’m sorry, Mom, did I really just say that?
Excuse me, but I’ve heard “No, the dog made it!” back at me so many times I’m busy counting the money we’ll make when we go on tour with her and the rest of the circus freaks. I don’t have time to come up with new-fangled parenting cliches.
This is a dog who apparently builds giant LEGO towers in the middle of the living room floor, only to smash them to smithereens. The sea of itty bitty bricks that spreads from the center of the floor all the way out toward the couch, under the coffee table and into the magazine box is enough to swallow the dog up, all 70 pounds of her. I have two opposable thumbs, and I can’t build a LEGO tower that passes muster with the 5-year-old judge.
But then this is the dog who plasters stickers on everything. Including the toilet seat. And yet, no trace of fur on the stick-um. Amazing!
Of course this is the dog who sets a doll in a doll stroller, straps her in, wraps her in a blanket, then pushes her into the kitchen, to leave her directly where I have to step as I walk from stove to strainer with the pot of spaghetti. Apparently those four legs ARE better than two.
And then again, this is the dog who has taken a green crayon to no less than seven walls in the house, marking the letter “K” in spots that are just about 5-year-old height. Those back two legs only push her to doll stroller handle height it seems.
In fact, every time I clean (or Jonathan cleans for that matter — he’s a master with a broom), there’s a mess being made behind us. And the 5-year-old hasn’t figured out how to make the dog clean it up.
But the way I see it, we’ve got wonder dog. She’ll be making us enough money soon to pay a cleaning lady. Who will have some messes to contend with . . .
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