We’re hosting S’s┬ábest friend and her two-month old son this week. Tonight, we had people from their high school group of friends over so they could all see the little guy for the first time. Including infants, we had 11 kids in the house. I’m really not sure why I bothered to clean this afternoon. When we had shown the last of our guests to the door and bid them goodnight, our kitchen, dining room, and living room were covered in a thin layer of crunched up chips, spilt milk, and ground-in brownie chunks. At one point, there was a train of four girls under five chasing a three year old boy through the house. A lamp was knocked over and the shade dented (Luckily it was a Target lamp so A) it was cheap and B) popped right back into place. I estimate our house will be clean until baby #2 (Who is still at least a year away) is two. After that point, we can look forward to a good 10-13 years in which our house will never be clean again. Someone remind me why I didn’t stay single and childless. (Kidding, of course.)