I asked 12 year old Peace to tackle his very cluttered room today. Believe it or not, he really does appreciate it when I take the time to go in and help in sort trash and treasure. Together we end up with garbage bags of trash and suddenly all his treasures fit in their respective storage spaces instead of spread all over the already limited walking space on the floor. I'll try and make time for his room in the next week or so.
Today, in his efforts to clean, Peace came up with an idea. He made a plan for his zillion little origami figures (please no disparaging my tween boy for such a geeky hobby). Peace would like to remind everyone that Samauri's wore origami in battle. While I was burning paper trash (and now please do not disparage me for such country bumpkin ways) when he invited me to look at his solution. On the way to his room from the burn barrel, I prayed the old "God, no matter how dumb or junky this looks, please don't let me be a nagging critical mother about it this time." This time I hadn't really needed that particular prayer, because I enjoyed this creative endeavor. Peace had hung the delicate paper creatures on string from his ceiling making his room an even more magical place. A few years ago, when Peace was tramping about 4-H camp, Buck and I did an extreme makeover on his room and made a tree house (loft) with vines winding about, bird houses and pretend feathered birds (which the cats like to gnaw on occasionally) posted here and there, lush trees painted on the walls, a desk with pegboard lined with hooks beside from which to hang his boyhood pocket knives, axes, Indian scalps, puppydog tails, lanterns, etc. Now his paper sculptures create magic of their own above. Fortunately I didn't manage stomp the wonder out of my boy today yet.