There’s an avalanche of stuff in the baby’s room. We’re going to have to dig our way in to get everything ready for our daughter’s arrival.
It was clean, a few months ago. Well, clean-ish. We had hauled a lot of stored stuff out, in order to make room for baby furniture. There were still a few things in the closet, and some odds and ends to go yet. But we were able to move around in there.
Not anymore. Since then, it has filled up again, with boxes and bags and assorted other goodies for baby. Hampers of washed clothes need to be put away. Furniture needs to be arranged. Things need to be put up on walls. And there are still some oddball things, like a watering can and my sewing basket and a map of Japan and a picnic basket, that need to find storage elsewhere in the house.
We have a lot of work to do. And the problem? We’ll have to stop every five minutes and marvel over the novelty of having baby things, at how cute and small everything is.
Le sigh. We’re never getting through the clutter.
I expect we should get used to it. She’s going to be a teenager one day, after all. Only then the clothes and stuff will be bigger, and we can tell HER to clean her room.