The grass streaks = playing at the park
The milk spit-up= sweet baby snuggles
The grease stains= how hard he works for us
The chocolate drips= yummy ice-cream dribbling down her chin
The spaghetti sauce= squeals of delight while squishing noodles
I plan and strategize and map out ways.
Ways to empty that hamper.
But they never fully work.
The clothes pile up like breeding bunnies-
Beyond belief before my eyes.
And kick that hamper.
But then…I remember.
The hamper is never empty
Because our lives are so blessedly full.