…as I survey the kitchen floor, which looks rather grubby.
Because it is. More than ‘rather’. ‘Exceedingly’ would be a better choice. Or ‘extremely’. Or how about ‘outright disgusting’?
On the floor you can see the history of our kitchen adventures yesterday. Those red splots in front of the bar fridge? That’s the double batch of gazpatcho I made before the kids arrived. When I snapped the lid on, it must’ve overflowed and dripped a bit as I put it in the fridge. I didn’t notice until now.
Those brown smudges over by the counter? The molasses crinkle cookies we made together. Thought I’d swept up the bits, but some must’ve been tromped under a small foot.
The longish smear, now encrusted with grit and dog-hair? Orange juice for the glazed carrots. I let Grace, who didn’t nap yesterday and so helped me with my family-dinner prep, pour it into the blender. I knew she’d missed a bit, but I thought we got it all. Oops.
Crunchy bits of dog-kibble by their bowls? Check.
Teeny smidges of carrot peel under the edge of the counter, again from the “Grace helping” scenario? Check.
A random used teabag by the stove? Check. (Good heavens, but yes. I know how it got there, mind you. Rory was supposed to have put it in the compost bin. Guess I didn’t monitor him through completion of his (self-appointed!!) task. How on earth did that escape notice till this morning? Probably camouflaged by all the other stuff already on the floor. Sigh.)
So I survey my kitchen, and I think…
Do you know what would be a most super-awesome-wonderful gift to give your devoted childcare provider? One which would ensure her heartfelt adoration? One which would ensure — ENSURE! — that she be disposed to cut you all sorts of slack for all sorts of things for years to come? And that your kid would, immediately and henceforth, be THE FAVOURITE? (Even though we never, ever have favourites. Nuh-uh.) But for this, it could happen!
The gift, which you could (if you can) purchase solo, or club together with all the other parents, the gift of the millennium…
a cleaning service. One a week, once every couple of weeks. Once a month, even. (Though every week would be better! Because hey, if you’re dreaming, dream big!)
Wouldn’t that just be too, too, too, toooooo wonderful?
Yes. Yes, it would. So wonderful.
It’s a happy place, this daydream…