The Mess

I am staring at The Mess.

The Mess, I won't lie,

is pretty big.

I cannot recollect when The Mess started, only that it is lingering around like a crazy, middle-aged man on the dance floor of some club that really doesn't understand that you DON'T want to dance with him.

I am staring at The Mess.

My daughter is playing in The Mess.

The Mess is lots of toys,

and some non-toys that have been fashioned into toys,

and maybe some cracker bits embedded into the carpet.

There is a sippy cup,

a remote control,

a baby beanie,

and a hanger.

I see a purse.

It's one of mine.

A small purse that is so cute and fashionable but becomes completely useless once you go from non-mom-to-mom.

That is now,

Sayler's purse.

Of course she is mainly just interested in the zipper.

It's shiny.

The fact that it has a designer label means nothing to her.  (quasi-designer, anyway- let's not fool the readers into thinking Cambria could care two sheets about labels).

The Mess is a bit frightening.

I am wondering if,

like the horror films of yore,

"The Mess" will be scarying young children and adults alike, much like

"The Birds"

or

"The Blob".

Did the right Mess mess with the left Mess after-hours and create a baby Mess?

Why yes,

Yes indeed.

I see the wee baby mess growing ever-so-quickly.

I have considered cleaning up The Mess,

but then I wonder what the point is, really.

Sayler likes The Mess.

It does not scare her.

In fact,

She's quite happy with it.

I will let The Mess hang out for a short while longer.

Then I will clean up The Mess.

Until tomorrow,

When The Mess re-visits my family room again.