This weekend, a few hours after we had done a complete cleaning of the house, I walked into the boys bathroom and found this:
(Do these kinds of things happen in other people's homes? Because sometimes I really wonder if what we experience around here on a daily basis can be considered within the range of "normal".)
When I suggested to Will that perhaps making brains in the just-cleaned bathroom was not the best use of kleenex, water, and his red marker, he protested, and told me that his work was very important. He'd been thinking if he made a large collection of brains, he could send them to scientists who study such things, and then they would have lots of specimens to work with when they were trying to discover a cure for brain tumours.
Go right ahead and make more brains, Will. Your heartfelt "work" has got to be infinitely more satisfying than having a clean bathroom ever could be.