My little neat freak

Eowyn, at 17 months old, has discovered the appeal of orderliness. Sort of.
Her recent activities include:

• taking cornflake remnants off of the coffee table (left there by daddy, si claro) and placing them in the trash.
• eagerly emptying her snack bowl onto the floor, running to the dishwasher, opening it, pulling out the top rack, placing her bowl inside, closing the dishwasher door.
• ferrying the clean silverware from the dishwasher to the drawer. Doing the same for dirty silverware.
  
• putting dirty clothes in the hamper. Putting clean clothes in the hamper.
• helping me put wet clothes in the dryer. 'Helping' me put dry, dirty clothes in the dryer.
• fighting with mommy over the broom and the swiffer (her new favorite toy is a child sized broom. The swiffer has also been permanently reduced to mini-height).
• running away with my rubber gloves and dish towels.
  

Believe it

My house is immaculately clean--you won't find weeks-old mystery spots on my floors. No dust blankets my shelves, and there are no decrepit food crumbs attracting bugs in cracks and corners. Each one of my closets, cabinets and drawers is scrupulously organized. The paint colors in my house work perfectly with my carefully chosen furnishings and wall-hangings. I maintain a full-fledged vegetable and herb garden, from which I regularly prepare delicious, healthy meals. I never eat half a pepperoni pizza in one sitting. I love all of the clothes in my closet. I regularly get pedicures. I never have Eowyn watch TV for an afternoon because I'm too tired to give her my full attention.

None of the above statements are true. (*sigh*)