You know there's too much clutter when you confuse your daughter's toys with real animals. And vice versa.
This week, coming down the stairs and entering my living room, I saw this monstrosity on the carpet, seemingly frozen mid-scuttle:
|Plastic Cockroach. |
Rumored to be even hardier than a regular cockroach.
I nearly (nearly) immediately realized it was one of Uli's toys and laughed at myself. How silly of me, to be startled by a plastic insect!
And then I surveyed the rest of the living room floor and all its crazy mix of toys (mainly comprised, on the evening in question, of plastic insects and cloth barn animals).
And I found myself thinking, "Yup, I'm so stupid to have been scared by the plastic bug. It would be like me being startled by that toy dead mouse that's lying next to it. With gashes in it's belly. Made to look like it's in full rigor. And, seriously, how silly would it be of me to be scared by something like that?"
It was a few seconds before I realized that Uli doesn't have a plastic toy mouse made to appear it'd been mauled to death by cats.
|Reenactment of Said Scene |
(lacking a pic of the actual dead rodent)