Within Arm's Reach

I was cleaning Chase and Chandler's room the other day, grumbling all the while to myself about how this was not good use of knowledge obtained in graduate school. Items were everywhere - matchbox cars, underwear, books, lego pieces - and my frustration grew with each article retrieved and put away in its appropriate place. In my mean mommy head I began devising a malevolent plan to empty the room of all the extra "stuff" that was contributing to my irritation, only keeping the bare necessities like the bed and a small pillow. It seems to work well for monostery monks. I imagined an immediate and satisfying fix to this clutter nonsense while also preventing my eyeball from popping out of my head in pure aggravation.

As these thougths continued to tumble around in my mind, I stumbled upon a sight that made me laugh out loud. My boys each have a bedside table containing all of their individual treasures that they want to keep safe from one another as well as from their precocious sister. Chandler, my sugar-loving six year old, had strategically placed a certain object in a place he hoped would not be scavaged by others.

You see, Chandler hadn't hoarded away special coins or rare Pokemon cards. In the same way a skilled CIA operative diverts the attention away from an endangered target, my child had camoflauged his most treasured belonging among the decoy of supposed favorite toys.

So I guess I'll keep tolerating and maintaining the mess created by little boys. The household joy that comes from a clean house, and possibly a room stripped bare, is not worth missing out on the hilarity of the mind of my wonderfully creative, tactical son.