Kids are messy. Parenting is one big sticky, gooey, crumbly, sometimes smelly, messy job. Even before they’re born, kiddos cause the expectant mama all sorts of sticky hassle – ice cream down one’s cleavage, crumbs where no crumbs should ever go, and extensive internal and external bodily havoc. And then childbirth! Childbirth is just about the most disordered, slipshod, gooey, glutinous process one can imagine. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that kids themselves are, well, messy. And it’s not just that they themselves produce clutter – crumbs under the high chair, beastly substances in the couch cushions, lethally pointy toys underfoot – but they somehow exponentially increase the mess around them. With one child, your trash and recycling quantities double, with two children, you could fill an ocean with what you find under their car seats. Top quality adhesives, intriguing fusion recipes, and cures for disease are probably all present under a two-year old’s car seat, if only the right scientist were to investigate.
All of this, of course, explains why my car looks like a high school gym locker where a troop of monkeys with sippy cups and granola bars has been trapped for the past year.
My question is: Why doesn’t everyone else’s?