As I exit the room where my child is fast asleep, I move through the narrow paths not purposely left between monster trucks, toy dinosaurs and building blocks. I step and hear a crunch, ah, a goldfish cracker on the floor. Oh look, three more over there. I think to myself, “I should clean this all up so he can recreate this chaotic masterpiece again tomorrow.” But, instead, I sit down on the couch. The one I’ve washed the cushions from three times this week from accidents he’s had from falling asleep before I could enforce the pre-bedtime potty break because I was doing schoolwork, and working on my blog, and figuring out the bills for the month. I look around at this somehow beautiful mess and smile. My son made this mess. He did it while he was playing, and using his imagination, pretending his cars had feelings. His sweet, innocent, wild mind made this mess strewn about in my living room while he was being a child. And it’s beautiful. I’ve decided to leave it for now. It’s a reminder that I’m blessed to have the unconditional love and the presence in my home of a wonderful gift from God.

Sweet dreams.

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