Some people tell me how organized their children are and how they love to clean up and straighten their toys and have everything just so. I would like to meet these children. Then again, maybe not.
Did you note the bookcase? The best thing to do is just yank a book off from the middle so that 14 others fall down with it. Look around the floor in confusion and wonder why you're standing in a pile of books. Then shrug your shoulders at the baffling nature of gravity and run off here to pull out some dress-up clothes.
After several weeks of this, plus me nagging and cajoling every day for them to clean up, only to discover that they just keep dumping everything in the closet, I finally snapped.
I figured it would take me at least 2 hours to clean everything up, including organizing the inside of their dresser drawers, which I did not take pictures of because I don't want you to think any worse of me than you already do.
FIVE AND A HALF hours later, we have this (note the gleaming floor, that you can actually now see):
I took every book out of the bookcase. I put all the ones that we rarely read into two boxes and took them to the basement. Now when they're playing downstairs and want a book, they can grab a "new" one out of the box. And scatter it on the basement floor. But at least I won't see it that much.
The coup de grace (and portion that took me the greatest amount of time):
The dress-up clothes and wicker basket that is supposed to contain them (along with Polly Pockets, Barbies, McDonald's Happy Meal toys, et al) is also in the basement.
I then gave them a long talking-to about how summer is over and they need to be responsible for their room. They were excited by how clean it now is and seemed to take me seriously.
Then this morning they woke me up by showing me themselves smeared head to toe in lipstick. Apparently they'd gone through my closet (where the "cloppy shoes" are), found an old purse that had no less than four old lipsticks in it, and had a great time.
I guess if your own closet is boring, you've got to look in somebody else's. I'll accept any volunteers who want to help me on my own room next weekend. There might be a Happy Meal toy in it for you. Or an old lipstick.