Sometimes I get mini-anxiety attacks when our house is out of order. You know, those moments when you realize that it's been days since all of the pots and pans were first placed in the kitchen sink, because we would all rather smell rotting scrambled eggs than to just roll up our sleeves and take care of business? And on top of other things, the little one is running around with something sticky on his face, and it isn't until he rubs his face into the couch that you realize it's leftover peanut butter and jelly from lunch. ahhhhhhh...just breathe...
But these kinds of messes? These messes are okay with me.
They're happy messes. And they're there to show the world that a toddler lives here.
And he's apparently having the time of his life.