Last Wednesday when our house was in the greatest state of upheaval with painter’s tarps on three levels of our home we had the grandsons over for their weekly overnight. (Readers will recall that I left the tap running upstairs in December before retiring for bed thus flooding three floors and causing considerable mayhem)
We prepped the boys before they arrived to discourage them from traipsing around where they would track dust and debris around the house. I’m not sure where the two-year-old Jake-ee got this expression but as we escorted him from room to room showing him the clutter of dust, paint cans and assorted painter’s equipment he would say with great emphasis, “What a Mess!”
Take him to the living room, hands on hips, “What a mess!”
Show him the basement where we scooted behind temporary curtains of plastic to watch some Thomas the Tank Engine episodes on the TV – “What a mess!”
Back up to the hallway leading upstairs with tarps over the carpeted stairs – “What a mess!”
Into the hallway outside his bedroom and our bathroom, “What a mess!”
That was last Wednesday. Last night, one week later we had a fresh coat of oil paint on the stairs and bedroom and bathroom doors………What a mess! Grandma went online to find a bargain night at a local hotel with a swimming pool.
