"Were you raised in a barn?"

Remember your parents and teachers asking you that when you were a kid? Well, maybe you don't, but I do. When that was said to me growing up, I would make sure I would do whatever it took to not hear it again. How embarrassing.

My kids evidently don't agree with my way of thinking. They have, in fact, obviously been raised in a barn-like environment, inundated with barn-like ideals (no doubt, behind my back); hence, their barn-like behaviors.

A prime example? This is what I found under the couch seat cushions in our play room.













And those aren't just candy wrappers. Oh, no! In addition, there are two ice cream sandwich wrappers, an entire granola bar, and a half-eaten bag of Chex Mix I guess the eater decided to stash until later.

Why the couch cushions? Who knows! Far be it from me to try and understand this warped child-who-obviously-lives-in-a-barn reasoning. I'm thinking maybe they could have put that hoarded trash in, I don't know, maybe a TRASH CAN!

But that would have been too easy, I suppose. It must be more fun, more thrilling even, to simply shove the empty wrappers right under your lazy butt as you sit, and skip the whole walk-three-feet-to-the-waste-basket journey.

I don't get it. I guess my little farm animals and I will be having a talk; a barn-burning discussion, if you will, about thankfulness and laziness and gratitude and people who don't have couches or even homes or food for that matter and...well...anything else I can think of to sermonize about.

(Besides, that was some of my favorite stuff they got into!)