He's expanding his territory

Mark is like a Tasmanian devil--he whirls through the house in a tornado, stuff flying all over the place in his wake. He walks across my clean living room, and by the time he gets to the other side, there are glasses (for seeing and for drinking), text books, snack wrappers, yo-yos, pillows, clothes, shoes, and cat toys strewn about. It drives me insane.

The kitchen's even worse--he takes out every dish we own, every bit of food from the fridge, cooks himself up a big ol' mess, and then retires to the living room to eat it. It's never occurred to him to return to the kitchen and wash any of those dishes, or put away any of that food.
 
Most of the time, I trail behind, pointing out the messes he leaves in each room, and telling him to pick them up. On my tired days, when I'm not up to arguing, I just put the stuff away myself.

Tiring as all this is, at least I have one single sanctuary to myself--my car. I spend almost as much time in there as I do in my home, so I keep it clean. But lately, Mark's been staking his claim there as well.

Usually it's just a couple things--a backpack, or a snack to eat later. But sometimes, it's more, and it's kind of embarrassing to explain all that stuff when I go to lunch with my friends. 

For example, this is what I pulled out of my car today:

That's right, a pair of shoes, but only one sock. A partial board from a tae kwan do demonstration. A water bottle, a comb, and a balloon. A granola bar. A metal camping bowl (or is it a cup?). And a joker card (which seems appropriate on many different levels). 

Seriously. Is there any doubt at all that I have a 12-year-old boy riding in my car? The good news is that it all makes a decent mobile earthquake kit--I have comfy shoes to walk in, a snack, some water, and a comb so I look good.

I was really annoyed when I emptied out the car. But then, unexpectedly, I had a pang of sadness, a moment of melancholy. I realized that in a few short years (five!), this stuff won't be here, because my kid won't be here. He'll be off to college somewhere, filling his own car with the same old mess--text books, snacks and water bottles, all upgraded to grown-man size.

And suddenly, the Boy Scout cup/bowl and the other stuff didn't irritate me anymore. They're markers, proof of his age, just like the Legos that used to live in the bathtub when Mark was 6. And someday soon, just like the Legos, all this stuff will disappear, and I'll actually miss this mess, and the little boy who made it. 

Sigh...I'm off to hug my little rugrat before he grows any more.