The Floor

Amanda has taken to throwing things on the floor if she isn't happy with them.  Give her a fork when she wants a spoon?  She throws it on the floor.  Have the audacity to give her a yellow vitamin instead of a purple one?  Straight on the floor.  Done eating breakfast?  Handfuls of cereal this morning all over the floor.

It's everything.  Anytime she is mad or upset or disgruntled or there is a slight lack of communication, something gets chucked onto the floor.  It would be somewhat amusing, except she then refuses to pick it up.  Which means I have to. 

Today I had visions about leaving everything on the floor and seeing how long it would take someone else to pick it up.  Charlie is on vacation a business trip to St. Johns until Friday so he certainly isn't going to fly home to pick up anything.  When I say everything, however, I'm not just talking about Amanda's discards.  I'm referring to Andy's socks and Sarah's shoes and the blanket that is supposed to be folded up in the corner of the living room and the sofa cushions and crayons and scraps of paper and everything else that the kids leave lying around.

The problem is, they wouldn't pick it up.  Eventually I would give in because it would drive me crazy or Charlie would finally come home and comment on how disgusting the house was, because it would be.  One sticky, wet, polluted mess.

So for now, I'll make the kids pick up what I can and try to teach Amanda that it's okay to set something down or hand it back if you don't want it, and I'll get lots of use out of my awesome new hand vac.