Trash and Vaudeville

I just finished cleaning out my office and my son's room. I only scratched the proverbial surface of my son's room by at least being able to walk into it and not be completely horrified.

He's a hoarder for sure. Love him dearly and maybe he's just a typical boy - but omg he's a pack rat. 

Deflated balloons from his birthday party, empty glasses, bowls and silverware from bowls of breakfast cereal, Mac and cheese, plates of chicken nuggets with leftover ketchup. How is this child related to me?!

I keep the door closed so that I don't see the filth but I know it's there and I know that at some point I have to go into that hovel and purge. If only I could completely tile it and hose it down periodically with a disinfectant solution using a power washer - ahhh that would be satisfying.

Oh, he likes when it's clean - don't get me wrong! Loves going in there after I've hauled out the trash bags. He just doesn't love it enough to clean it himself.

Love that kid - truly.