URRRRRGGGGgggglurgleglurgle ... urg

... is currently the soundtrack of our lives, all because Innis has discovered a new feeling:

DISGUST.

For someone who can sit in his own crap without complaint (sometimes for an embarrassingly long time until someone else notices that he needs a change), he sure is a Judgy McJudgy Pants when it comes to other people's codes of cleanliness. And he doesn't waste any time when informing us of our dirtiness, either.

Take for example the minute specks of fluff on Nan's staircase. Innis will stop dead in his tracks, mid ascent, fastidiously pick up said fluff between two pudgy little fingertips, hold it out to whatever grownup is nearest, and say "URRRRRGGGGgggglurgleglurgle ... urg" until that grownup removes the offensive mote from his sight.

Same goes for the dead bug he found the other day.

And the dust bunnies that puffed out from under the couch when we moved it out of the living room.

Or the hair on Mummy's legs (surprise, Innis! It's winter!).

Given the upheaval that has defined us for most of Innis's life, and our general disorganization as well as inability to put things back where they belong once we've finished using them, you'd think he'd be used to mess, like somehow the acceptance of chaos would be ingrained deep within his little psyche -- but no. Innis is like one of those little old women on that "How Clean Is Your House?" show. Helpful, but mostly just condemning. Not a day goes by that I'm not reminded by my toddler how much I lack in the housewifery department. And he can't even talk yet.

But I'll take it. It's ok. I'll just bide my time until he's old enough to develop the manual dexterity required to house clean. Just think. A child that likes to clean? That's better than a robot butler.

Comments

[Victoria]

you've created a MONS- I mean, GERMAPHOBE! ... I mean, a MINI YOU! (and you said you toned it down....) lies.