Working

We live (hubby, Mini, and I) in a two bedroom apartment with a little tiny room called a "den" off the living room. Now, I always think of a den and a living room as kind of being interchangeable, but that is NOT the case with our den. It's little. It has been home to my sewing machine and several desks that were theoretically where I would paint and sew and otherwise craft. But it seemed so small and cramped in there and my sewing chair is REALLY uncomfortable...so I've been doing all of my art at the dining room table (we don't eat together, hubby works nights). Even so, Mini Me has always called the den "Mommy's office." Recently I decided the art "mess" was getting out of hand and I really wanted to move production back into the den, so I spend several days rearranging furniture and bookshelves and piles of stuff. I was thinking to get rid of this one small desk with really minuscule drawers that's just sort of been taking up space. But I thought that instead it might be a nice place for Mini to keep his markers and crayons and journals. When I told him it was going to be space for him he shrugged it off like a three-year-old will do, but he's decided it's his favorite place in the world. He absolutely LOVES it.

On this particular night, he kept opening and closing the drawers on his desk and it was making me crazy so I was trying to get him to go play. I ask him, "Liam, don't you want to go play in your room?" and he replied, "No, I have work to do in my office." I nearly peed my pants laughing.