This morning, in the amount of time it took to crumble a pound of hamburger into the pot for tonight's chili, Blake and Miles discovered the drawer filled with sugar and flour.
In less than the five minutes my back was turned, they had each emptied several scoops of flour and sugar onto the floor.
Yesterday I left them finishing their lunches while I ran to pick up the kids from school. In the ten minutes between when I left and Tony came upstairs to check on them, they had completely destroyed the kitchen. We had chicken nuggets and fries scattered across the entire counter. Worse, though, was the sprite they had dumped all over the floor and were walking through, spreading the stickiness from corner to corner of the kitchen. Unfortunately, Tony had clean up duty on his birthday.
They are busy. Oh.So.Busy. They don't intentionally try to make messes. I know they are just curious, and creative and playful. They don't understand how frustrating it gets to never have a clean house for more than five minutes. They are blissfully unaware at the constant mess that surrounds them.
And today I am grateful for those little messes. Grateful for toys underfoot, dirty little faces, fingerprints and sticky spaces. Because it means they are here. They are alive and healthy and busy making messes as they learn about their world. When I think of how often I pined and prayed for these little babies, it would feel ungrateful to begrudge the little incoveniences they cause. How I love my little boys, messes and all.
