Earlier this week James brought a pot from the play kitchen upstairs and left it in the middle of my bedroom floor. If there's one thing I absolutely cannot stand, on a totally visceral level, it is clutter in the middle of the floor. Stresses me the heck out. You can imagine that Things On the Floor occupy a lot of my mental energy, with the four kids and the husband and all and YOU WOULD BE RIGHT.
For this reason, I have declared the kitchen my personal floor-clutter free zone. My neuroses is at least justified in the kitchen--I don't need to be tripping over someone's Lego space ship on my way to dump a gallon of boiling water and spaghetti noodles into the sink.
So I've been tripping over this freaking play-kitchen pot all week and getting more annoyed every time I see it UNTIL TODAY when I was just sleep-deprived enough to make a Thing out of it.
"James," I began, sometime around 6:30 when I was super annoyed to be awake, "pick up that pot and put it back in the playroom, please."
He calmly said "no" while looking me right in the eye and wandered out of the room.
I followed him. "POT. GO GET THE POT AND TAKE IT DOWNSTAIRS, PLEASE" I said, more firmly this time.
"NO!" he said, more firmly this time. And then he went downstairs. I picked up the stupid pot and carried it down the stairs, then put it on the living room floor.
"Please put this away." I said again, because I have totally reasonable expectations of my two-year old.
He sat, looking at me, silently.
"Look, guys, if no one else is going to clean anything up around here, I'm going to stop making your beds!"
It was an empty threat; I love making their beds.
And then I stalked upstairs to remind Charlie to get dressed. I found him making the beds in his and Wes's room. They looked beautiful.
"Charlie, did you do this? It looks wonderful!!" I gave him a hug.
He said softly "I heard you say you weren't going to make the beds anymore."
And I was so very sad that my sensitive, sweet Charlie had heard my ill-thought-out threat (Wes and James don't seem to hear a word I say, though they do value other things). Because I really do love making their beds. If I don't do it in the morning I do it right before they go to sleep. I love tucking everything in perfectly and imagining how comfy they'll be. I can't stand the thought of them getting cold or uncomfortable at night.
When I traveled for work this summer *that* is what Wes missed. He missed me making his bed cozy for him.
So I will probably never stop making their stinking beds.
Until, maybe, they really do stink and then they're on their own.