Every. Single. Day.
This means lots of cleanup. Every. Single. Day. Mostly for their mother, who gets to see it in all its messy glory; I only get to see a pale shadow of the creative tornado with various bits strewn about in unlikely places. Paper, scissors, tape, glue, glitter, beads, sticks, rocks -- you name it.
Occasionally there are signs. Not like crop circles or blood trails, but rather hand written notes tacked up on doors or left in the kitchen. Once it was "Come see my dress" (full size and made out of felt and tape). Another time it was "Jesus, I will be good" (nice one, that). At other times it was "Rules for playing with toddlers" or "Buried treasure map" (ooh, my garden).
Today it simply reads:
No Baby's a Lawd
At Bed Tim
in les Mom
A lawd? What's a "lawd"? Is it like a "sposed"? Just to get even, I'm going to post this sign on the bathroom door. Where's Mom? She's in the sposed.