As I was getting ready for work this morning, Jean came in and reported that she had a dispute she wanted my input on. Her parents are coming to visit this weekend (returning from their annual pilgrimage to Hawaii, I think), and Jean is cleaning up the house from it's usual disheveled state. She wanted Kelly to clean her room, which looks as if it was carpet bombed with stuffed animals and other trinkets.
Kelly insisted that it was her room, and that moving things around from the way she had them was an invasion of her person. Jean said Kelly could put things back the way they were after the visit. Kelly complained that things wouldn't feel right afterwards. So Jean came to me to make a final decision. I don't know if she thought I was going to come down on her side or wanted a genuine arbiter, but I asked Kelly to come into her room with me and talk about it.
I was in my sock feet at the time, so I made sure Kelly could see how a sock-footed Grandpa could accidentally step onto a plastic toy and hurt his foot, so that he would be unable to tell 'Fuzzy Duck' stories at bedtime. Kelly and I arrived at a deal. She's supposed to clean all the toys off her floor and put them in a closet. The rickety dresser will be full of her clothes and closed. Other than that, she can leave as much clutter as she wants to on her table tops.
I told Jean about the deal, and she remarked that Kelly was going to be a lawyer when she grows up.
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