The children are making memories, or are pint sized toy hoarders bent on making our house into a cuddly version of a crack house. You know without all the drugs and disease, and unsafe structural stability. I'm fairly sure that some of this may be part of a greater elaborate boobie trap.
Someone once told me to enjoy it because one day I would look back and miss this. I'm not sure if I'll miss THIS, but I will miss seeing the 5 young beautiful faces of my mini female horde when they are all grown up. I won't however miss almost going septic when a puncture wound from stepping on a Lego goes south. That I will happily leave behind.
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