Sunday, Stryker said, "I want to go through all the junk in my room and throw away what I don't need and organizing everything else."
Okay, I am dizzy.
On my knees!
Did I mention that the Matron is a tiny teeny bit of a neat freak? Is the gene finally becoming dominant in one of my offspring? Please.
He worked busily all afternoon and into the evening. John gave him early instruction in all things organization and I hauled armloads of
I was only allowed to enter at bedtime, when I was given the official tour.
"Mom! Look at these drawers!" He pulls out pristine squares, glistening and spare.
"The shelves!" All books lined and alphabetized! Trinkets neatly arranged and dusted. Is this what they mean by The Rapture?
"All this empty space to move!" The piles of junk--gear, gadgets and game--gone. Yes, they wait sorting in the basement but that's a place I avoid with far more success than a child's room.
Climbing into bed, he said (casually, as if this wasn't going to break me entirely): "I have two New Year's Resolutions. When I want a snack, instead of junk food, I'm going to grab a grapefruit. And I'd like to join an algebra club."
I do believe in Jesus.