Our ten month old daughter loved to paint with chocolate pudding. She scattered the chocolate like a frenzied artist, over her face, the high chair,her parents and everything she touched. She was our chocolate Midas and we attempted to avoid her touch. I wagged my finger at her, ” you are a very messy baby”
At two years of age she pushed over the canary cage. The cage door opened. The canary serenaded its first taste of freedom, bumping into walls around the room. My wife and I fetched the vacuum and the mop and bucket as we rushed to clean up the seedy mess.
At ten years of age our daughter would respond to our constant mantra of “Clean your room” by entering into a state of contemplative bliss, ignoring all worldly distractions.
At the age of fourteen things got really messy as she stormed home from school upset by male dominance. The boys out numbered the girls in their classroom group and instead of having a reasoned discussion the boys voted as a block against the girls. The topic under discussion “What are the two most important conditions for survival”. The girls suggested food and shelter, the boys countered with hockey and banning school.
After graduating from university our daughter went to teachers college. Then things really got messy. She decorated every room with magazine cut-outs, bristol board, glue, tape and crayons.
Now our daughter is a teacher, married with five children. She constantly complains about the untidiness of her children. They leave their mess everywhere, homework all over the place, won’t clean their room. We just smile.
Life is messy.