CRUNCH!

No, this isn't a post discussing ways I could finally get my body back. Although, maybe less blogging and more crunching would help. This post is all about one of my least favorite sounds (besides whining, crying, and kazoos). Okay, so maybe I have noise issues - add them to the list with my OCD and aversion to sticky things. But, I digress...

A crunch, in general, isn't so offensive. It's the fact that a crunch in my house is accompanied by the feeling of millions of tiny crumbs exploding beneath my (usually bare, since I can't find any socks) feet. It seems that my children may be part of some bizarre cult that prefers to cover all floor surfaces with crumbs of any nature. Or maybe they're trying out a new beach-themed decor and need to create sand. Most likely, it is due to the fact that I have raised a houseful of slobs who are completely unfazed by food falling on the floor.

There's nothing quite like trying to start the day making a cup of coffee and managing to crush a Cheerio, Goldfish cracker, and a Cocoa Puff between the coffee maker and the refrigerator. {crunch, crunch, crunch} I'm hardly a neat-freak, but I do clean. And I have someone who comes in to do the things I never get to (mopping, tub scrubbing, etc.) twice a month. How is it possible that I'm always stepping on crunchy foods? Clearly, I'm doing something wrong. Someday soon I'll have to institute a new policy - whatever you drop you must eat. Wait - who am I kidding? My children have absolutely no qualms about eating off of the floor. And that's not a testament to my housekeeping abilities.

I suppose I should just consider myself lucky that they only drop crunchy (and not sticky - gah!) food on my floor. It'll be another post entirely when things start to go 'squish' beneath my feet.

If there were chocolate involved, I might not mind!

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