MyThreeDaughters

That’s Prometheus.
You might remember his story. Prometheus, in addition to apparently being quite buff as shown in the painting, stole fire from the gods and gave it to the people.
The gods didn’t like that, so Prometheus, being unfortunate in that he was living back when the Greeks were always looking to write tragedies, was sentenced to having his liver eaten out by a giant vulture. The bad news for Prometheus, and the good news for the vulture, was that every night Prometheus would grow a new liver and the next day the vulture would swoop in again and eat it.
Torture, repeated daily.
Which brings us to the parallel between the story of Prometheus and trying to have a clean house when you have kids.
Fontaine and I straightened up the living room today. Put everything away. Wife vacuumed the house.
But when you have a one-and-a-half year old, this won’t last long.
Stuff will be dragged out of cabinets, CDs will be taken from their stacks and placed randomly around the house. Tiny toys will be picked up and strewn about with other tiny toys that don’t belong with each other.
Clothes will be removed from dolls, the dolls left in an upstairs bedroom and the clothes brought to the kitchen.
Organic sweet potato baby food mush will be intentionally tossed down and splatter orange pock marks for six feet in all directions.
The vulture will swoop in again and eat Prometheus’ liver.
But he had it worse.
Not like we clean the house every day. That would be torture.