Please, no more phone calls begging me to 'Be Kind to K". He knows I am doing this.
Yes, he is afraid he will come home to find the house plucked bare.
But he has faith.
He also knows there is so much stuff, I will barely make a dent. Plus, there are 2 little boys who have been trained in the Value of Daddy's Stuff. They are plucking things back out of piles, saying "Oh, Mommy. This is NOT trash. This is a Good Thing." Martha Would Not Agree. I will have to do this after they are in bed. As fast as I make piles, the piles they get rearranged.
The 3 of us are exhausted. Even the BunSter is tired. I started in my sewing room, which is the Bun's home, after all. He had to smell everything, and ran around with his pile of towels in his teeth, fairly hollering "But Not THIS, Mommy. THIS is my crib. It's my life!" He's pretty spry for an old rabbit. He growled at me when I moved his poof!
I am meeting my sister D for some dinner. Boys are at Parents' Night Out. I had to bribe them with an Odwalla bar to get into the car! They were afraid I was going to start throwing out their toys. ACK! Pack Rats, the lot of them! I promised I would not touch one of their toys. We shook on it.