Do y’all know/remember the story of the porridge pot that is given to the poor little girl and her mother who are hungry but share with another poor person? He tells her the magic word, and when she says it, the porridge pot produces copious amounts of porridge until she commands it to cease by intoning another magic word. Of course her mother forgets the word one day while the little girl is out and the town is soon covered in porridge. The citizens have to eat their way out.
Long way of telling you that I think this is a metaphor for my home. I have forgotten the magic word of cessation. If I vacuum, Jack seems to immediately need to “bark” (like a barker machine, strips bark from trees) crackers while standing up. Voila- crumbs abound all over the clean floor. We have these FLOR carpet squares that you put together to make a rug of sorts. It’s great for kids because you can pick each tile up individually to clean it, the kids can rearrange them, etc. Well, right now, all 20 tiles have been moved from the family room and thrown around my dining room table. Oliver is running laps singing “so many carpets, so many carpets.” Jack is now commanding him to return to the runway immediately -“stop stepping on the cargo, Oliver!”- Oliver won’t listen (he is extremely 2 and also takes little to no BS from Jack; I applaud this) and now they are hanging from me demanding strawberries. There are 85 cups on the table, sandwich crusts, stickers, markers, booger rags, spackle (to repair a hole in the wall from roller coaster ramps being destruction tools), Percy and 12 pounds of Mardi Gras beads around me, and this is just in my immediate visual periphery.