Precious Crumbs ...

And how I grew to love them.

When I was in the thick of motherhood—kids running amok—I heaved a sigh when I saw this scene.

Crumbs dotting my floor, my table, my counters, my chairs—it was constant, and although I didn’t expect perfection, I did want to, maybe, possibly, have a somewhat clean floor on occasion. Is that too much to ask?

But that’s not possible during the growing-up years. That busy, exhausting time when the kids are … well … kids.

Since my nest has emptied, my floors are generally clean. The most frequent offender is boring old dust.

But last week, my sweet grandboys visited. And the crumbs returned with a vengeance—and I loved it.

My daughter made quick work of cleaning after an especially crumbly meal. I found myself wanting to stop her. What’s the hurry?

The crumbs represented joy. The boys had loved their lunch. It made me happy to serve them something yummy. I cook for my husband, sure, but he doesn’t do a bum-wiggling happy dance when he enjoys his food.

They also represented the presence of the little people that I adore. My kids have blessed me with three sweet boys who fill my heart with the joy of being a mom all over again … in the funner form of Nana. All my sweet boys live far away, and to have them in my home is just … amazing.

So while my daughter vacuumed, I hustled to capture a photo of these precious crumbs left by boys. I never imagined missing messes … missing the things that used to frustrate me.

I wish I’d appreciated crumbs when my kids were little. Childhood is such a short span of time. The days are long, but the years are short … as the saying goes.

I’m grateful for the reminder that spotless is overrated and that a crumb-covered floor is a blessing.