The other day, I returned to my home from our women's devotional group. It was a peaceful early afternoon, though it did not stay that way for long. My daughter, "the sock fashion expert", had taken it upon herself to clean out our families "toy closet". This set in motion many terrible tales too horrible to mention, though I will torment you with just a few.
Gone are the days of not being able to walk through my children's rooms. After spending the first 13 years literally not always being able tread through my children's rooms to reach their beds, I devised a wickedly mean plan. One day, as if I were the mad scientist who cracked, I stuffed all of my children's toys into boxes in a large walk in closet which was intentioned for a pantry. Their rooms became walkable, and I kept the dreaded closet door locked. I only allowed one type of toy out at a time and closely monitored the time out of the closest as if the toys were live gerbals out of their respective cages.
This worked well until visiting children arrived. These visiting children were cunning and crafty. They could tell that I was occupied and wanted to sneak into the toy closet at will, disrupting the organized boxes profound beauty. I also soon found that trying to get other peoples kids to respect my rules wasn't worth the offense that it could bring to an adult friendship.
After some years of visiting kids, 5 kids of my own, and much less will power, my toy closet became untreadable. This is where my daughter, "the sock fashion expert", stepped in. This week, she single handily organized a coordinated attack on reorganization of the dreaded domain. This erupted much havoc in my home. Eventually all the kids got on board with the work. All except for my 6 year old. After many painful screams and cries, I assigned him to organize the silverware drawer (as a distraction). He was thoroughly disgusted that valuable items such as broken toys were being thrown out.
My oldest son, 17, arranged all the games on a high shelf. He laughed fiendishly and plotted with my 13 year old daughter, who has shamelessly named herself "the closet boss". My 11 year old son, "Art Dog", was not at all interested in being recruited, though he dutifully responded. He dawned some furry duds and hopped around obeying "the closet boss" as she sent him on missions with items from the closet. My 6 year old made many excuses to check the trash can often and was quite suspicious with every fiendish laugh from the closet. My 10 month old, Moonbeam, kept dragging herself over to the activity and was eventually placed in my back pack to avoid the mass chaos.
I, myself, tried to assist, but soon became overwhelmed. I assigned myself my daughters dishes chore and some baking for every ones sanity involved. The closet soon became unrecognizable. I'm not sure where all of the items disappeared to. It suddenly appears quite organized and managable. You never knew what you would find in there. If you were missing over due bills, inevitably, there they would be. If you were missing dirty clothes, somewhere lurking in a bin, there they would be. If you were missing a kid, well, you get the idea. Even the beloved remote to our remote control fart machine has been located.
Life as I know it is no more. We have entered the unfamiliar zone of organization. Today my daughter cleaned out the fish tank, or rather fish grave. They had all died but one lone fish, which swims as if it were partially paralyzed. It doesn't really do what a fish is supposed to do (if fish are supposed to do anything). I fear my daughter may have been zapped away by aliens and replaced with a motivated, organized clone. I think on the way home from work tonight, like "Men in Black", i may read the Enquirer to see if there has been any alien cloning going on. I also suspect that there is a galaxy hidden in one of those organized toy bins.
Really, she is doing a spectatular job!!!! I'm so grateful for the work she has undertaken. My 13 year old is truly "incredibly virtuous"!