I am at home. Other than the sound of my tickety-type, the only thing to be heard in the house is three-year old Charlie upstairs who is trying to fall asleep for nap time. He likes to turn his head from side to side and sound out one long note. It makes me think of a rather lazy police siren.
Toys litter the livingroom floor, turning it into a minefield. One wrong step, will send a Lego clattering loudly across the hardwood. Worse yet is to bump into Thomas the Tank Engine, making him let off a shrill whistle and say, “That was fun!”
Uh-huh. Maybe for you.
I do my best to tip toe around the toys of mass destruction so as to allow Charlie a fair chance of going to sleep. But though I know he can’t hear me, he has as much chance of going to sleep as I do of winning the Miss America pageant. Unless it’s fifteen minutes before we have to leave to pick his brother up from school. He’s sure to fall asleep then.
My share of the mess is more methodical. I have fourteen whole newspapers (two weeks worth) that I haven’t gotten around to pulling the coupon circulars out of. After I finally get to it, there will also be a filing crate of circulars, that I need to go through to throw out the pages that expired last month. Ooh, and after that, there’s a shelf in the garage that is loaded with newspapers that need to be taken to the recycle center.
Hmm, if I stop couponing, then we wouldn’t have the extra money to buy the boys more toys, then I wouldn’t have a minefield to walk through at nap time!
Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to fly.
Instead I’ll just have to relish the five minutes a day when the house is clean. In the meantime, I should look into investing in gear to protect me from toy shrapnel.
Things my mother never told me would happen when I had kids. But to be fair, she had girls.
NaNo word count: 15,657