Socks on the Floor

My husband suggests you not buy a 2-story house. After this morning, I tend to agree. If I had a 1-story house, I would know where the socks are hiding.

I only go upstairs at night when it is time to tuck the boys in bed and say good-night. It is dark when they go to bed. The lights are off.

I went upstairs today to pull my ski gear out of the closet in preparation of our twice-postponed ski trip. I could see them. The socks on the floor.

Who cares right? Some socks on the floor. Well I do. I care. I can clean up just about anything. I don't even mind cleaning up the backyard. I hate picking dirty socks off the floor. From the back seat of my car. In the bathroom. On the kitchen table. Off the kitchen counter. On the computer table. On the coffee table. Dirty socks everywhere.

Help me. They can put the rest of their dirty clothes in their rooms. Not always in the hamper, but at least in their rooms. Socks never make it there.

The other day I quietly asked them to take all of their dirty socks upstairs. The socks disappeared.

Soon after that I asked them to put their clean clothes away, "Yes ma'am," came the quick reply.

I found all the socks today. And the clean clothes. The socks were all in a pile next to the Wii. The clean clothes were still in the hampers ... yep, next to the dirty socks and the Wii.

Well, the Wii is gone. Put away until June (I am such a mean mom). Their Nintendos seem to be gone as well (those only until we leave for our two day driving trip to Colorado). There will be no play-dates until next week. They will do their homework, go to baseball practice, read, and write me nice notes about how sorry they are that they can't pick up their socks!!!!