Lyla's artistic inspiration typically strikes only in the living room. The coffee table, side table, and several parts of the wood floor bear the markings of her genius. They're washable markers, not that it makes it any better. All it means is that I need to go wash stuff.
So today I moved Lyla's plastic table and chairs from the playroom into the living room.
Currently several pairs of hands are clapping sarcastically in my head. Why does it take so long for me to think of these obvious solutions?
That was a rhetorical question.
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