According to the calendar somebody tacked on the bathroom wall, yesterday was national "No housework" day.
In honor of that, the toddlers tore up the rubber matting I had on the floor of the daycare room while I was retrieving a can of peaches. One hundred and fifty square feet of interlocking rubber tiles upended in less than sixty seconds.
They must have been coordinating that for weeks.
Just in case someone from the CDC is reading this, I won't tell you what was under the mats; suffice it to say that I had to violate the principles of the day and scrub the entire 150 feet with Clorox.
My room now looks like this:
Somewhat cold and hard on little noggins, but…sterile.
(Those children aren't recognizable are they? I suppose I should fuzz out their faces or something…)
I haven't had time to wash the backs of the mats and dry them thoroughly yet, but…
I was kind of hoping that without them, the older school aged children–who have as much energy at 6 a.m. as I've had in my entire life–would maybe cut down on the wrestling/gymnastics they generally engage in every morning.
I thought maybe they'd consider the tile floor and choose, instead to…I don't know, read a book?
There is a PARTY ON THE DANCE FLOOR!!!! at my house this morning.
Just in case you couldn't understand me if I used my indoor voice.
The ring leader is ten; she knows all the moves and all the lyrics and when she doesn't, she makes them up on the fly. The little girls think she is a goddess. The boys are pretending to learn the moves too, but really they are making fun of her inside the collars of their shirts. What else are brothers and cousins for but to keep you humble, right?
They've figured out the physics of socks+tile floor+all that energy they came with.
Oh look, darn it. It's time for the bus…