Yeah, that one. You can't miss it. Well, maybe you can miss it. Maybe you cannot tell it's a table because of all the junk (a-hem, art) that is strewn about it, around it, underneath it.
I HATE it. I constantly want to take it and all its contents to the curb on trash day. But I don't. The kids love it. They love to create, to use their imagination. To take a single piece of paper and cut it into as. many. pieces. of. paper. as. possible. So, I try really hard not to squash that. Instead, I take a deep breath, turn around, and walk away. Some of the time. The other nine out of ten times, I scream, beg, plead, and threaten the kids to pick it up. I lament the mess. I cringe. I cannot relax with it in that state. So, when that doesn't happen and I can stand it no longer, I clean it up myself.
But then THIS happens:
She builds a House for a Mouse. Sure, there is tape and scraps of paper EVERYWHERE and she wants to put an actual piece of cheese on a pretend plate inside the house, but guys, A HOUSE FOR A MOUSE! Out of no prompting from me at all! Complete with a functioning door, a bed, a drinking cup, plates, and a note asking if the future inhabitant has heard of The Nutcracker Ballet. (If not, she drew a picture).
So, in an effort to nurture the creative process, I will continue to kick my type A, clean freak, everything in its place nature to the curb, bite my tongue, and walk away. But only every one out ten times.
