It had been a long week. Dragging myself upstairs to the dreaded task of cleaning the playroom I peeked around the doorway and sighed with the realization that it was much worse than I’d anticipated. The kids were downstairs doing their school work and Thomas, my soon-to-be three year old was finally down for a nap. We were getting ready to move again and I was in “Purge” mode. I began in the corner where the toy cars,Legos, and our Miscellaneous toy bin had been dumped in one huge pile. Quickly, I sorted through the toys one by one. Many of the toys had been around since my oldest (now 15) was a baby, so there were very few I did not recognize as old favorites. Nearing the end of my task, I saw the carpet and some little brown balls. “That’s weird”, I thought. “What do those go to?” Racking my brain, I thought of all the board games, playsets, doll houses that we owned and could not place them. These were little, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, which indicated they couldn’t have been around too long because I was careful of choking hazards. I leaned closer and picked one up. I gently tried to squeeze it and immediately realized what I was holding in my hand. Thomas was in the middle of potty training. And not doing a very good job…
