Super A: Cleaning Committee

     A series of soliloquies, dialogues and conversations dedicated to my son, my hero.

Sunday mornings are usually playtime for the kiddos. I’ve transformed our living area into a miniature playground where they can do what they want… play pretend or what-have-you.

They have all their toys in a bin and bought a cart for Harperoo so she would start learning how to pack away her toys. On the contrary, she is very good at really trashing the place and uses her cart to make massive mess.

I’m on my second trimester (with our third baby) and can hardly move. I started to get down on my knees to pick up the toys while mentally making some serious swearing (even though I did say they can do WHATEVER they want) when Super A came to the rescue and cleaned up the mess… picking up the toys one by one, covering the bin and putting the bin back to its original placement. He’s a little OC, just like me.

I got up, sat back and put my legs up on our couch. And just like that, Super A saves my day.