The Boy leaves many a cupboard door open. The Girl shuts them.
The Girl moves the soap next to the faucet. The Boy moves it back inside the cabinet.
The Boy leaves the gates open. The Girl chases the herd back into the pasture.
The Girl drives two kids around all week. The Boy empties the contents of her car. Because it bugs him. It bugs him a lot.
Let’s talk about this last one. Now, I appreciate the help- I really do. Sometimes things linger in my car for days upon days just begging for a proper home, but I just do not have the energy to relocate it. The Boy always has the engery.
I maintain, with stout insistance, that my car is decent. It is not, as it has been said, a petri dish. There are crumbs, yes. Our trips to town are long and many a granola bar is consumed throughout the week. There are crumbs. There are school papers… crumpled and sticky from too much glue. There are water bottles and diaper bags and strollers and baby blankets. There are stroller attachments in case we need them on the fly. There are wipes that fell out of the diaper bag. There is my basket, which catches as much as it can before it falls on the floorboard for another week. There is Rylie’s small basket… so she can be like Mom. There are extra pants because have you ever travelled with a three year-old who is potty training? There’s an extra pair of shoes (see previous sentence) and yesterday’s coat. There are futile baby toys that are strung across the backseat to entertain an infant that refuses to be entertained.
I get it. There’s stuff.
He does it, I think, to give me a fresh start and to ease his mind. To say, ‘See what is possible?! Don’t you feel lighter now?’ But when he takes that stuff out, I lose it. I don’t know where yesterday’s mail is anymore… it WAS on top of the diaper bag. I don’t know where my phone is. It WAS in the front console. My car is clean, but I am even more disorganized than before. Just sayin’.
Y’all sure are cute, though.
What’s in your car?