Just in Case the My Little Pony Underwear Wasn't Enough

Sometimes I think I have failed in teaching my children how to clean up after themselves. It often seems as though I really am raising pigs. It's either that, or baby tornados. Ya, let's go with that. So they are constantly leaving stuff lying around. Such as small dirty socks to get sucked up in the vacum (oh yes, it has happened), shoes to trip over, legos to provide shooting pain for the feet, crayons to snap, and random toys to just basically give the whole "living with three kids" feel to our home. And it works really well. I doubt anyone has stepped foot into our home and wondered, "Do these people have children?" So yes, we do have children and there is a lot of evidence in this place. And all the bad stuff aside, I love it. I love the proof of my children. My kids are always drawing things. And almost every single day I come into my bedroom to see some kind of note or picture made just for me. It is usually placed on or under my pillow. Sometimes I climb into bed in the dark to a sound of crunching paper. It warms me and fills me and really does make me very happy every single time I see their little masterpieces. It is the best evidence my children exist. And one day, not too far into the future, these little masterpieces will be all the proof I have that children were once part of this home. And I am definately not looking forward to that.