All day long, M walks around the house. He brings kitchen utensils into the living room, into the front hallway, even into the master bathroom. He brings his toys into the kitchen, the front hallway, our bedroom, back and forth from his bedroom to those other locations. My brush and comb always seem to find their way underneath the couch or in my shoe. Most of the time, we can keep the objects somewhat contained, but there are plenty of other times that by the end of the night, I’m lucky I haven’t twisted an ankle or broken my neck.
I know that this is just what kids do. I’m cool with it. He has fun, and I don’t mind rinsing the hair and dust out of measuring cups before I need to use them.
Every night, as part of our bedtime routine, we pick up his toys from the living room and put them away. And by “we,” I mostly mean me, because as we’re working toward an obstacle free space, M discovers some object or other that he forgot was so fun he has to play with it again for a minute before it goes away. But I’m glad that we do this. It’s a good habit. For both of us. Because some day, he will understand what “let’s clean up our toys” means and perhaps take on the lion’s share of the actual pick-up himself. I’m looking forward to that.