There are plenty of kid messes that I could do without - the toys strewn through my living room, my expensive face lotion squirted all over the bathroom counter, or finding a granola bar ground into my favorite rug - but I’m hopelessly sentimental over tiny hand prints on the surfaces of our home.
I let them sit for weeks sometimes on the large mirror in our bedroom or on our front storm door.
Every time I finally cave and wash them off, I take a moment to note just how small their fingers are and yet, already bigger than the last pair I wiped away.
It is nothing short of good fortune to look out at the world on the other side of my front door or my reflection in the mirror through the smudgy handprints of my children. It distorts the view a bit. Makes it feel softer, kinder, a little more gentle.
If you come to my home, you won’t find many sparking glass surfaces or crystal clean mirrors (at a child’s height, anyway). But rest assured that we’ll get around to cleaning them eventually, once we’re done savoring this beautiful mess.