Now that school has started I have a whole 3-1/2 hours with just Rocco, and let me tell you—going from 2 kids to 1 kid feels like going from 10 kids to 0 kids. Still, now that I have all this time to myself, I suddenly have no time at all! I don’t know where it’s all going but I am absolutely pooped by the time V gets home from school.
Anyway, on the second day of school I decided to clean out V’s bed. Here’s how it looked when I started:
Not too bad, right? Until you start lifting up pillows and bean bags and find…
Legos, light-up toys, a Waldo book, a piece of baseboard, and a scrap of contact paper (in the middle) that he grew very attached to. Not joking—it caused tears when he lost it one day. I can’t imagine what it would do to him to know where I put it when I cleaned his bed that day.
Weapons, football bear, and a shield. The weapons are actually very important. One night I got out of bed to find Vincenzo wide awake, tip-toeing toward the living room, Thor’s hammer in hand. He said he had heard a noise and it was clear that the intruder was going to suffer a lightning bolt to the groin or something like that.
An old shirt, creepy baby, and books ranging from the X-Factor to the bible. He doesn’t want to get pigeon holed into one genre just yet.
Baby toy, last year’s winter hat/jacket, table saw, and lanyard we’re going to use in his upcoming birthday party.
Junk including: pirate costume, feather duster, baby tiger about to eat baby kangaroo, McDonald’s toys, tail from a dragon, artwork from last year’s girlfriend.
Junk including: more McDonald’s toys, Iron Man glove, my water bottle, old cell phone, and a bracelet he found in a parking garage and wore for a week straight. (It went in the garbage pile and was later discovered in the garbage can by Vincenzo and worn for another two days.)
I cleaned this all out from the back of his fire truck bed—I didn’t even touch the cab or the roof. I’m not sure if all this junk proves my son is a slob or his mother is lazy, but I’m sure we’re not going to win any Good Housekeeping awards either way.
Maybe this week I’ll tackle the top of his dresser.
Seriously, people. Pooped.