Whenever I hear the strains of "Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share ..." I get nervous. Mya's sweet little voice can often be heard singing this song and I never know exactly what I'm going to find when I turn the corner, but I know it will be messy.
"I made a messh", she proudly proclaims. Last night she smeared her pb&J around the table making the loveliest of paintings. Yesterday morning she dumped her bowl of goldfish at the front door and much to my relief she quickly put every last one back in her bowl. "I did it myself," she declared.
She blows bubbles in her drink and it sprays everywhere. She loves to race outside without her shoes on so her feet are usually black on the bottom. Her play clothes are smeared and stained.
Eating, predictably causes the most mess. I am on a constant quest for snacks that Mya can't dismantle. Cheerios are pretty good - unless you step on one left behind and it creates a little pile of powder. Pretzels - same story. Forget about anything sticky or crumbly. I could sweep the kitchen floor five times a day and it would still be covered. You should see our floor after rice.
When it comes to eating, Mya's like a little hurricane leaving destruction in her wake. I don't mind though. Mya may be messy, but messy living is the best kind. No one's life is in danger after all.
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