Robots, Hairbows and String Cheese

Three things you can find at any given time in my house. The boy--well known for his love of all things cheese--will run through the house, robots in hand, seeking out the next intergalactic war. Those pesky battles seem to always take place within my living room. Bits and pieces of machinery torn and strewn about. Piles of defeated action figures who stand no chance against the massive power of my son--the war lord--and his team of menacing robotic soldiers. An arm here--a leg there....it is brutal I tell you. But then a glimpse of beauty in the midst of the destruction....something shiny....something pink. The girl's hairbows--victims of her 2 year old autonomy--lie on the floor, ready for the vacuum cleaner to suck them into the dirty black hole. They show up everywhere--like little stalkers. In my coat pocket, under my covers, in the floorboard of the car, the bathtub, under the couch cushions, and most ominously, perched upon the edge of the stairs. Over and over again all day I pick up robots and hairbows and anything else they can manage to drag out. And at the end of the long, long day--well, that is a good time to enjoy a string cheese...