Organizing the Little Things

I’m a classic organizer. Maybe a little overboard at times, but it makes me feel accomplished. Put together.

Lately it’s obvious Jack inherited my organizational skills. Not sure if I’m proud or worried. Maybe jealous? Almost three years old and the boy can sort the laundry better than me. My cleanliness didn’t kick in until after college.

At times, Jack’s so involved in sorting and organizing that hours pass. His determined face. Busy hands. Little feet scurrying from one task to the next. Rushing to get the job done. I try to intervene, help even, but always met with frustration.

“Noooo! Not that way, this way,” he shows me. I try again.
“That’s not right. They need to be separated!” He scolds. Anxiety building in his voice. “You go do something. I’ll do this. Okay?”

Every day it’s a new mission. With varying objects and toys. One night it was squishy frogs in plastic containers atop books. Lined one-by-one down the hallway. Another day his markers and crayons were sorted by color. Placed in piles against the kitchen wall. And every time we get the monster trucks out, they must be lined up, “waiting.” He even arranged all the rubber reptiles at Target on a trip with my mom. Spent 20 minutes perfecting the order.

I know his desire to separate and organize is credited in part to his age. But Jack takes the skill to another level. Everything must be “separated” before we play. Everything.

Am I the only one with a compulsive organizer? Surely he can’t be the only 2.8-year-old with impeccable methodical skills… right?

Jack's line of balls against the dining room wall.
The entire wall. And every ball in the house was used.

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