Despite the penchant boys seem to have for mess, the enigma that is my son, means that he loves to clean too. Well, that’s not strictly true. He loves cleaning paraphernalia and any and all of the accessories that go with it. He is in raptures of both awe and mortification at the numerous spray bottles, filled with fabulously coloured liquids, that are used only in certain circumstances and never by him.

We have to fight for the vacuum cleaner. In the end we have had to implement a turns system, to mitigate the high risk of tantrums that vaccuming caused. It’s working much better for us now. On the up side his vacuuming skills are improving with all the practise. Mopping has the same issues, rather higher stakes though. Fighting a small child for a mop across slippery floors is not a parenting high point.

I think though, his all time favourite, is the dustpan and little broom. He knows where those live and he can get them out whenever he wants, which is usually a few times a day. If he ever messes any of his food on the floor, he shrieks with delight, jumps off his chair and races to get his trusty cleaning buddies.

Diligently he sets to his task, not satisfied until the mess has been evenly distributed around the entirety of the room.

With this in mind, it wasn’t really a surpise to see him tip toeing past the lounge door one afternoon, carrying them with him. I assumed he had found a bug to sweep up or some other innocuous item. When I saw him tip toeing back singing his “Mess, here.” song, I thought I’d better go check.

He had emptied an entire bottle of rose scented massage oil, in a large puddle, on my bedroom floor. That was the mess. He had realised, in his toddler wisdom, that this was a mess only a dustpan and broom were capable of rectifying and he was the perfect man for the job.

He made sure that every inch of the floor was slicked with the oil residue. Doing a trip round the room was like doing a circuit of an ice skating rink. Walking around the room needed a health and safety warning. Pillows and bedspreads were not spared either, where his fingers had been, was clearly marked with greasy stains. The best part though, is that this little episode, is the gift that keeps on giving because the bristles now have the oil embedded in them and every time he sweeps anywhere else he slipperies up the floor for unsuspecting guests or grandmothers to take a slide on. Fabulous. I’ve heard of killing people with kindness before, never cleanliness. They say there is a first time for everything though.

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