Detritus

I've just made another batch of chocolate ricotta muffins, to put in the freezer, to take out of the freezer, to bring to school next Tuesday, which will be the day we celebrate Monkey's birthday at school (being the first day back after Spring Break); and which is also a day I'm co-opping, so I won't be able to just whip them up after he goes in and bring them down at snack time. How prepared am I? (That was rhetorical. In fact, I'm only a tiny bit prepared. I still have to check I have all the ingredients for the birthday-party cupcakes and probably plan to make a cake the day of the birthday as well, which just so happens to be Easter Sunday. Which is why we have no plans for Easter whatsoever. It has been totally overshadowed by The Birthday, much as dinners have been totally overshadowed by Cake.)

Anyway, as I wait for the muffins and gaze around my - beautiful, gorgeous, lovely - kitchen, I am struck by the amount of sheer crap that takes up a square foot of real estate at the end of the counter. Here is a quick rundown of some of what's there right now:

• One giant water pistol, courtesy of last week's trip to the thrift store with Daddy (he's the expert on super soakers, having spent many useful hours playing Assassin as a grad student; which if you didn't know is a long-drawn-out game in which, over the course of several weeks, you try to sneak up on your unsuspecting friends in the Assassin league table and ambush them with a soaking before someone does the same to you; it's like being a secret agent, only wetter).
• One clean tea towel, ostensibly on its way to being put away; in reality will probably sit there until called into active duty.
• One pink water bottle.
• One children's library book.
• One sheet of stickers, mostly used.
• One tiny skateboard, with associated tiny screwdriver and highly swallowable tiny wheels.
• One mini-tub of pink playdough.
• One roll-up plastic eye-shield thingy from Monkey's first ever visit to the dentist, about two and a half years ago. Despite its ultra-disposable nature, this may never be thrown out, as it is vital to his superhero costuming. It frequently goes missing, for months at a time, due to its small size and transparent nature, and is always re-found with delight.
• A picture of someone else's children, from a Christmas card. This sort of thing paralyses me: I can't put it in the album, but it seems rude to throw it away. But I probably should. I'm sure their mother wouldn't hold it against me now that it's Easter.
• A "chick" in an "egg" in a "nest" that Monkey made at school. On its way to trash as soon as I'm sure he doesn't care too much.
• Three lip glosses, either on their way upstairs to my bathroom or in the other direction to be put into a handbag, therefore realistically just living there near the mirror so I can use one before I go out.
• The prescription eye-drops from the last time someone had pinkeye, which was at least a month ago now. On its way upstairs to the medecine cabinet in case we need it again before its best-before date.
• A pile of pebbles rescued from Monkey's jeans before they went into the laundry basket last night. On their way back outside. I hope.
• Sundry receipts, thank-you cards, duplicate photos, coupons, and instruction leaflets, none of which I can throw out because B might be keeping them for something. 

So I'll just square them up into a nice neat pile, put the bowl of "things the kids can't reach" on top (except Monkey can, so now it's the "bowl of things for Monkey to comb through and find treasures in") move the book and the water pistol, put the pebbles outside, and call it tidy.