Mine?

Any number of times in my childhood my dad asked, "Do you have eyes in your fingers?" as I picked up something in a store that, apparently, I didn't need to be holding. I remember feeling very frustrated because sometimes looking is just not as good as holding on to something. Well, apparently that's still true for tiny hands. My kids are not just always underfoot. They're always touching things, and it seems to me those things are usually mine. Now, apparently the line between kid stuff and mom stuff is not very clear in this house. I see a house that looks like a toy store exploded somewhere within our walls. My kids see a world of things that mom is using that is far more fascinating than any boring toy. Computer? Needs to be touched. Scissors? Must be squeezed. Papers on mom's desk?  Kids must evaluate -- with pen! Raw chicken? Definitely must be poked. Yes, yes, I know. Kids learn by doing. So, I try to resist the urge to zip coats and fasten seat belts for them. I do my best to let them commandeer the dust pan and clean in their own unique way. I'm happy to let them slap together their own PB&J -- but not lick the spoon and put it back in the jar! It's just that they're everywhere, these darlings of mine. I'm well aware that it's normal for them to demand all of my time and my resources at this phase in their lives. Fine, I expected that. I just thought that maybe, just maybe, since I don't really have my own space or time,  I could enjoy exclusive use of a few things, maybe the mop bucket, the rice cooker, or just a yellow highlighter. No such luck. I'm just going to have to work harder to make my items even more fascinating. Look, kids! Mom's using a feather duster! No, wait. I tried that. I ended up with two kids "cleaning" each other, then asking for the ceiling-length duster. A six-foot long stick in your hands? Nah. Sorry, dearies. This one is mine.