How is it that one tiny human can turn the kitchen floor into a smorgasbord of whatever is on her tray, in addition to whatever she has found in the crevices of her highchair from her previous meal?
Husband and I have come to conclusion that AK is, in fact, not a dainty girly-girl. Duh. Her legs fashion a Dalmatian, her knees consistently skinned and I often wish her shirts were disposable. Therefore, when eating, she somehow becomes her food. Blueberries are one of her favorites. Lord, help me.
Husband, who is slightly on the neurotic side has often said to me "when is she going to stop being so messy when she eats?" My answer is usually, "What?" I have absolutely no earthly idea. Maybe we should ask her - "darling daughter, when might you actually get the food into your mouth without smearing it all over your entire face, bib, under your bib (you're magic!), your feet, the high chair and most importantly the floor?" When you're two? Three? Five? Eight? Hell, I don't know. Maybe it's just part of her character - she eats with voracity and pure enjoyment.
Her favorite thing ever is husband's homemade mashed potatoes. I personally think he puts crack in them and I would imagine she would agree if we had that conversation (we're not going to, don't worry). I give her a spoon. And, she finds it useless. Really? Mashed potatoes with your hands? Yes. Her whole hand. Which goes in her mouth, her hair, the sides of her highchair and every other which way. She eats them, with gusto, but it's almost like an art project in the process.
So, daily - no, make that thrice daily, I am picking up chunks of food from the floor, "sharking" the smaller bits, wiping it down and then swiffering it so as to avoid massive smears.
I do this more for myself than anything else and it's my choice. Yes, I could leave it until the end of the day, but I can't, you see. That's not who I am as a person. My house, even with an (almost two) year-old is meticulous and I will have it no other way. I don't waste my time cleaning up while I could be spending it with AK, but she also needs to learn that cleanliness is important and we clean up after ourselves. So, she helps. (Kind of).
One of these days, I will look back with nostalgia when my young lady is sitting at the table eating a meal with us - without painting the kitchen with it - and I will scroll to a picture in my phone that will likely leave her saying something like "Mom! Don't ever show anyone that picture." Sorry, kid. I love you, though.
Until then, professional floor cleaner I will be.