My life of laundry piles, dirty dishes, toys on the floor and toothpaste on the bathroom sink is being ravaged by a little blue box hanging on my door knob. I know that in order to sell the house, we must allow people to actually see it. Which of course means my drop-my-clothes-on-the-floor-leave-dishes-in-the-sink-and-worry-about-laundry-tomorrow life is over. This is an excellent exercise for me - who has always despised cleaning. My children, however, are not cooperating......
Chris has taken to carrying his hotwheels in a bucket everywhere he goes: church, Barb's, the doctors, he even sleeps with the bucket next t0 his pillow. Not surprisingly, the cars never stay in the bucket. Our living room floor has become a mine field of sharp little metal deathtraps. I have pulled hotwheels out of the dog's dish, found an entire parking lot under the couch, and saved one from being flushed down the toilet. Then there is Mr. Potato Head - who mocks me with his bright colored lettering on the front of his carrying case yelling "OVER 40 PARTS INSIDE!!!! Brilliant...who's idea was it to give that as a Christmas gift? Oh right, it was mine. Earlier tonight, just as I finished putting the little spud and all his body parts back in their case for at least the 3rd time, I turned around to find Chris dumping the Lincoln Logs on the floor - along with his hot wheels, 2 puzzles and some random playing cards he found. I liked the baby toys much better - the ones that had no removable parts for fear the child might swallow them. My kids aren't eating any of their toys - they are just wreaking havoc on my living room! Even the stuffed animals TJ has in his room create a mess. TJ performed a biopsy on one of his stuffed monkeys and I've been finding white fluff all over his room for weeks.

I guess prospective buyers are just going to have to see past a little dust and dog hair and be gratefull they didn't step on the Chris' turbo racer or Mr. potato head's eyeball.