At least I know my utter failures as a hopelessly unreformed Messie (if you drop by unexpectedly, which I'm praying you won't, you would witness Exhibit A) have done little to hinder the Cleanie progress of my children.
Emmett's latest favorite game, other than anything involving the balloon he acquired at a birthday party this weekend, is picking up.
This morning in the nursery, I set him next to the bright green, and quite empty, toy basket, handed him a teething ring and asked him politely to put it away. And so he did. And he proceeded to find every toy in proximity (ie, close enough for him to not have to actually put effort into the process) and place it in the basket, as well. He got a kick out of it.
Until he saw his Daddy, who had been out of town all weekend, approaching the door, at which point he lost all interest in the new game, dropped his current toy, cried, "Baba!" and crawled with all his might to the entrance of the classroom. He has priorities.
But, still, this evening, the newness of Daddy's recent arrival having worn off, he sat next to his sissy, who was attempting to play with their train set. I say attempting because it can be hard when your brother insists on putting all the toys back in their basket almost as soon as you can pull them out.
But at least it's cute. And, hey, who is she to fuss - a fellow Cleanie at heart, she can only sympathize with her brother's needs. Aren't they adorable?
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