Now feast your eyes on this.
A mere three hours of chucking out broken stuff, re-stashing unbroken stuff, wiping, vacuuming and wondering how the hell he accumulated so much junk. And here we are, a clean, tidy, immaculate bedroom.
I’m a naturally organised person.
I like things in their proper place.
I like things categorised.
So I start off putting lego in one place, ammunition in another, animals in the animal tray and people in the people tray.
But what about a nose that, when you squeeze it, oozes a snot-like substance out of its nostrils?
Not too much thought needed – people tray. People have noses don’t they?
But the small piece of plastic that obviously does something but I’m not sure what?
Create a “miscellaneous – may fit something later on” pile.
After half an bour or so of this kind of time-consuming piddling about, I move into fifth gear.
Unidentifiable piece of plastic? Bin.
Sticky embryo-type creature that comes out of a plastic egg? Bin. (I’ve been looking forward to doing that since he got it)
In fact anything I think he may have forgotten he ever had – bin.
In the end I’m chucking out pennies and vacuuming up lego. Much quicker.
But now it’s done, he’s promised to keep it tidy and there’s that pig flying past the window again.
When I go in to say goodnight to him, it feels like I’ve stepped through the wardrobe into a fiercely minimalist hotel.
The smeary fingerprints on the wall would smash that fantasy if I put my glasses on.
And tomorrow I’ve got this to look forward to.
Bye-bye playmobil-land. Hello carpet.