Our garage is a tip again. How is it that we clear it out and promise we'll keep it clean and then before you know it, it's piled to the rafters with junk?
I asked Craig to clean it out because we need to park the truck in there so I can park my car on the drive and not on the road anymore. Loading up two kids in the morning constitutes frantic buckling in of Danny while shouting at Jack not to run across the road. School buses, though they are big and yellow and American and fun to see, don't help my plight. This is made even more difficult because Danny's wearing bulky winter coats and child car seats don't have very friendly parts that you can move. Trying to loosen a seat belt takes more mastery than even the best girl guide could muster up.
This past week I have been pleasantly surprised at how willing Craig has been to go to the garage. Each night and at the weekend he tootled off downstairs with a cheery "going to clean the garage" with a little skip and a whistle.
I finally got a tad suspicious so went to investigate. Oh, the garage is cleaned out all right. But there's no truck in there.