It struck me yesterday, as I was rushing around our mess-laden abode: I live in the perfect house.
Now, this may sound strange (especially to those who have actually seen our house. You are probably rubbing your eyes to make sure you read this correctly), our house is a bit small for the six of us, it lacks an office now, and it doesn’t have so many things I dreamed my house would have when I was young. I cannot tell you how much I would like to have a library/office or even a back yard for a dog.
For some time now, I’ve been feeling glum about the fact that I may some day be able to afford the house I want, but I had wanted it to share it with the children. What would be the point of a large house once the children are grown and gone? The thought had been making me quite sad.
But then, yesterday, for the first time, I thought about what this house lacked and asked myself: how many of those things, like a library/office, is for you and John and not for the children?
What would happen if the house was bigger? Would the boys have to share a room? No. Isn’t having to share a room one of the best thing about our house…doesn’t it make it so that they have to interact? Would Ping-Ping ever leave her room if it were larger and had the things in it that she wants there? Isn’t forcing her into the basement with the boys one of the best things about this house…when else would she see and interact with her brothers?
And, so, I realized that maybe we have exactly the house that we need–grass all over the living room floor from the rabbit and all.
Now, I just need to get it straightened up, so that the kids can use it. ;-)