Cleanliness is next to ... impossible

by Bruno Bornsztein

It's 8:03pm. I just finished getting my daughter, in all her awesome, hilarious, incomprehensible terrible-two-ness, bathed and to bed. Before that, I whipped up a dinner of questionable-vegetable lo-mein for the two of us (her mom was at yoga), while practically holding the child in one hand. Needless to say, the kitchen is a mess. 

The dining room is no better, especially in the places where Ayla decided she didn't like cabbage and dribbled partially-chewed gobs of it on to the floor. In the living room, the ceiling has sprung a leak (no kidding), and two bins of unfolded laundry sit awating their fate. Also, I've lost my voice somehow.

Let's get real.

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