Clean House

"Ewww, what is that stinky smell?"  McKay asks this morning as she eats her breakfast.

"It's the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink."

I did not wash a single dish yesterday.  Breakfast, lunch, dinner, assorted snacks, and juice cups were spilling out over the sink and onto the counter.  Some spoons were on the floor, lying on top of a giant mystery stain.  It was not my finest moment as a housekeeper.

Now a normal person might stop and clean their kitchen when their six year old daughter complains the smell is making her lose her appetite.  But once again, I proved my lack of normalcy, by simply lighting a scented candle and heading upstairs.

Thirty minutes later I came downstairs to find Deacon perched next to the candle.  A graham cracker, broken in half was lying next to him on the counter.  A giant marshmallow was attached to a toothpick, and Deacon was holding onto this toothpick, his marshmallow resting over the flame.

"What are you doing, Deacon?"  I ask.

He looks up.  "Making s'mores.  Can I have some chocolate?"