When I was in the throes of pregnancy, I had (what feels now like) unlimited time to read voraciously about child rearing and I gleaned what little bits of wisdom I could. One of them being that a child’s things should always be in their room, that they should not be allowed the run of the house. When they go to sleep, it’s mommy and daddy time. All their stuff is put away.
Hah. That was a nice thought. And maybe ponies can fly and sprinkle gold dust everywhere too. So while I don’t feel defeated or anything, I definitely didn’t imagine that our dining room would become more and more a child’s play room, with the dining table being pushed ever so slightly more towards the wall until its place in the room is almost laughable and out of place.
And, what’s more, I didn’t expect to feel this glee whenever I see his toys laying around at the end of a day. When we’ve just put him to sleep and I see this on the floor, I am (surprisingly) not annoyed. It makes me smile, shake my head, and chuckle to myself, Oh, you funny guy! It’s like he’s leaving me a present to remind me of him while he’s sleeping. How thoughtful!