The good news or the bad news?
The good news is that the second level of our house has been scrubbed to within an inch of it's life. Carpet vacuumed, woodwork polished, toys, furniture, walls, baseboards all wiped down.
The bad news involves the time leading up to this spring cleaning.
Monday evening, Derek came home from work, and Atticus and Adelaide were upstairs playing. Supper was ready, but rather than call them down right away, we decided to eat in peace for a few minutes, just Caedmon, Derek, and me. We were enjoying the fact that we could eat and converse with each other without being interrupted every four seconds when The Informer came downstairs.
She looked like this:
So we yelled for Atticus to come downstairs.
He looked like this:
I have to admit, we chuckled when we saw him. It was pretty funny.
We stopped laughing when we got upstairs.
While we had been eating our supper, The Destroyer had gotten into the baby powder and annointed nearly everything within reach. While Derek bathed our newly albino children, I spent much of Monday evening wiping things down with damp cloths, then woke up Tuesday morning to discover that there was still a white film on nearly everything. Several hours were subsequently spent re-cleaning. Our bedrooms now smell like a combination of soap, vinegar, Pledge, and still more baby powder. I can't seem to fully expunge the carpet, so the kids' clothes become paler and paler shades of pastel as the day wears on.
It's events like these that make me vow never to leave Atticus alone to play again, no matter how enticing the thought of five free minutes becomes.
Then the laundry piles up, dishes crowd my kitchen counters, my other children need my attention, and I break my word. The lure of a few two-year-old-free minutes always gets the better of me.
Guess who's upstairs by himself right now?