Sorted Neatly Into Boxes
By DeBie Hive on May 19, 2014
I was planning to write about something else entirely this morning, but then last night I opened the door to my oldest son's room and gasped.It wasn't because it was messy the way it usually is.It wasn't because I was starting to wonder where all the cups/hangers/towels in the house were.It wasn't because he'd left a light on. Again.I was checking to see if he'd made any progress in there, if what I had asked was something he was actually working on, or if he had spent the better part of the afternoon sitting on the floor playing with his LEGOs or guitars or whatever else it is that he usually does when I ask him to clean his room.When I opened the door last night, I wasn't really prepared for what I saw, which makes absolutely no sense considering that it was precisely what I had asked of him.This is what it looked like. (just don't tell him I just put a picture of his room on the internet, okay?) We are starting the long process of moving their rooms. . . .
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