Note to my children:

Dear children,

Always remember that you received your ability to clean out the garage from your mother.  Your father, bless his heart, is a pack rat--or should I say a packing material rat! (Oh, how I love him!)  If it's cardboard, bubblewrap, or packing peanuts, he will not part with them.  Layers of styrofoam are his friend. (Can you say mice heaven?)

Granted, he occassionally needs to pack a box for shipping for work, but he gets 47 new ones a week, with all new packing materials.  And of those 47, none are stacked, folded flat, emptied, or put in a place other than in the way.  He also finds an affinity for emptying his car into carboard boxes.  Never to check the contents again.  These contents include, trash and treasure.  Many a cup, CD, pack of gum, receipt, handful of change, etc., has been relogated to the bottom of a box. 

This is where your Mama enters the picture.  You see, it is my eternal and loving duty to see that you can reach your scooters, balls, hoola hoop, and wagon.  With my caffeine boost of spring, I bound through piles of boxes; moving, sorting, separating and stacking.  WallllaaAH!  Sense of accomplishment!

Of course, my pleasure at providing your father more space to "put" his boxes, is endless.  What else is a wife for?  Please, remember, dear children, the garage may be a father's heaven, but it is a mother's duty!

Your ever-loving, often industrious, out of caffeine-of-spring,

Mama

PS. I cleaned out the van, too!