Sunday, October 19, 2008

I'm Forced to Be a Stealth Cleaner

Kate's room has been becoming increasingly more disgusting, and I knew I was approaching the breaking point, but I have been a little preoccupied. However, I recognized the opportunity for some deep cleaning the other day- Kiki went down for an early nap and Kate was at pre-school. While I understand the argument of teaching accountability by cleaning the mess together, I just wasn't in the mood for an ongoing debate about the merits of a broken toy or the tears resulting from having to part with outgrown clothing. "That is my favorite toy/shirt ever, ever, EVER!" she would shriek while clutching some dust covered reject. It was a solo mission, and that's all there was to it.

Here's what came out from under her bed. I was shocked.


Sure did take three pictures to get it all. Any kind of cleaning that requires a broomstick, disinfectant, and vacuuming with attachments is pretty darn satisfying. Kate came home to a nearly spotless room (I was just wrapping things up), and I easily deflected her questions about where her clothes and toys had gone by pointing out the new clothes that had room in her drawers now.

If you are wondering what to get her for Christmas, the answer is "NOTHING."

4 comments:

Jamie said...

Oh come on, she's just stashing stuff under her bed for a rainy day! I love it. There's nothing like being a hoarder - good thing she's got you to keep her in line!

A said...

Can you come over to my house next? My roommate could use your lean mean cleaning machine ways. Nice work!

Jenni said...

It is much easier to trash the trash without witnesses. I just don't need to hear the crying and near meltdowns from throwing away the broken necklace. The under bed stash always makes me really mad.

Jeff and Rose said...

Remember when you told me that most of parenting is just trickery. Call it what you want. I put toys in the special pink bin and tell the kids that they are just going to get washed--when in reality that pink bin gets a one-stop trip to the trunk of my car. Yup, a grandpa Judd mission at the Deseret Industries. And frankly, they do get washed, right before some other person takes them home.