Clean Houses Are Over Rated

I’m off for the weekend. A “women’s retreat.” A friend is picking me up in her black SUV at four today, and I’m being whisked away to some unknown territory.

When I let the boys know I’d be gone, the one who loves trains said, “Will you be around to take us to school in the morning?”
“Will you be around to pick us up from school?”
“But you won’t be there to read us the story.”
“That’s right.”
“When will you be back again?”

As my heart puddled on the floor, and before I had a chance to catch my breath, the littlest one said, “Cool. Now we can mess up the house while you’re gone.”
I said, “You already do that, you know.”
And he said, “Well, if you wanted a clean house all the time, then you shouldn’t have had any kids.”
So there.
I hope I come home to a mess exactly like this one, with the furniture moved around, plenty of stuff to walk around, and of course, it just wouldn’t be home without cracker crumbs everywhere…

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