The Mess

It follows me. Where ever I go. From room to room, upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside even in the van. I clean, in fact I am always picking up something. So why is there always a mess? I get one room done move to another and come back it looks like a tornado hit. Is it the house? Did it throw up? Or is it the sweet little monsters that live in the house? How can someone so small make such a big mess? I am not sure if they are really only one person or if they multiply when I am not looking. I recently met a mom in my neighborhood who is always telling me how much she loves me because I have stickers on my walls and toys all over the floor. I wish everyone felt that way. One day my nephew Tanner (14) was over and he started picking up toys. I told him he didn't have to do that and his reply was I don't mind this place is a mess! Well, tell me how you really feel! He has 3 brothers you think his house never has toys laying all over? That is when it hit me, the mess follows me. It is my calling in life to clean up toys, clothes, and whatever food misses our mouth and is left laying on the floor. The mess loves me so much it always waits for me to clean it up.