The other day I walked into my daughter’s room, wait, scratch that, I couldn’t actually walk into my daughter’s room; it was way too messy. There are clothes strewn all over the floor, dolls in various of states of undress were scattered all over the place like victims of a deadly hurricane, and I swear I saw something moving under her bed.
Now, as much as I would love to blame her slovenly ways on someone anyone else, I know the truth. It is all my fault. I am not a cleaner, a neat-freak or even one to hang up their coat. I am a slob. And now my daughter, thanks to me, is too. Of course she is -- they keep telling us little kids are sponges, right?