Toast on the Stairs

One of the things my kids learned on the cruise was that they do not have to clean up after themselves.

Little Brother was shocked, one morning, to find a plate with toast crusts on one of the staircases. He told me that he would never do anything like that. (Now, that is definitely crossing the line, people. Find a table to put your stuff down!)

Since returning home they seem to have applied the lesson of Someone Else Cleans Up All Messes to our home.

Wrong, bunny breath!

I came downstairs this morning to find a bowl with some lettuce and salad dressing on Little Brother’s “art table” in the family room, and an awful lot of stuff all over the place in there: light sabres, Wii games and controllers, pillows, matchbox cars, marbles and batteries (dead or alive? Someone else gets to test them to find out).

They’re all lucky I didn’t get them out of bed right then and there to pick up this mess.

In the living room I found my paint pens on the coffee table. Middle Sister had borrowed them to embellish her notebooks. I told her that when she was done, she should leave them on my desk. It’s 3 feet from the coffee table, by the way…

The remote for the family-room TV was in the kitchen.

There are going to be some busy children in my house today. I imagine there’s going to be some yelling, and since it’s nice weather, my windows are open.

So I apologize in advance to my neighbors, and even to SFO Girl and Ellen, for what you may hear today. But I’ve had enough of the toast on the stairs.

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