fish

I had forgotten about the crazy mess one year-olds create. We have a high threshold for disorder in this household. Every room in this home is truly a living room, and when we walk through the house we take care to step over the flotsam and jetsam of childhood – books, pictures, lego, etc.

But the one year-old mess is not the same as objects that someone has neglected to put away once they’ve finished with them. The one year-old is discovering where things are, where they can go, what they can do. The spaghetti box comes out of the cupboard and each strand is pulled out piece by piece. Some are licked, some are snapped in half. All end up on the floor. The toilet paper unravels into a heap on the bathroom floor each time you visit that room. All this is tolerated because it buys you time while you wash the dishes, or brush your teeth, but also so as not to put a damper on the one year-old’s spirit of discovery. It does however mean that an awful lot of time is spent picking things up.

When the chaos on the ground becomes too much I look at the walls. There’s always something pleasant to look at there. The fish is peaceful, unperturbed, uncluttered…

I will be like the fish. I will swim with determination. Clearer waters are ahead.