It's true. I found a raw egg in the toy bin tonight. I had just finished lecturing the boys on the shabby situation of their closet floor, where the doors remain open like the jaws of a prehistoric beast, barfing up the contents of its bulging belly. The laundry basket remains 50% empty, with the clothes piled near and up to it, reverse spillage from lazy aim.

Back to the egg. Max asked if I would look closely at the big bite on his arm, which sparked my quest for the small spray bottle of some natural bug bite remedy that I remembered sat near Beck's bed for the past several years. Or so I thought. All I found was Dream Spray and some after sun coconut aloe lotion. Time to dig a little.

I can't actually remember the last time I made them go through the toy bins. I call them bins, but really they're plastic drawers in varying depths that slide in and out of an iconic, wooden IKEA structure perfect for bits and bobs. At one time the drawers were organized, where each bin was monogamous and pure. Marble game here. Toy dinosaurs there. Musical instruments, crayons, toy cars, art supplies.

Only now when I opened the drawers it was utter chaos. Complete anarchy of objects. Brontosaurus fraternizing with beanies, sunglasses sleeping with silly putty, drums slumming with socks. And I as sifted through a shallow tray of pens, crumpled brown paper napkins, playing cards and party favors, I spotted a bright white orb.

I picked it up to examine it more closely, as it had an uncanny resemblance to an egg. And I thought we'd long given away the toy food they used to play grocery store with. Is this an egg?! I asked them. Pause. Oh yeah, I completely forgot about that, but don't worry, it's not hard boiled. I shook it. Ah no, it's not hard boiled.

I couldn't even fathom what the reason for having this raw egg would be, so I skipped right to the consequences for such an action. Do you have any idea of the stench this would release if it were to break? In reply they graphically described the perfect fart combination that might in fact accurately describe its full stink potential. Oh that's right, you're 13 year old boys.

What's possibly more shocking is what I did next. Still stunned with the discovery and preoccupied with getting to bed (me, more than them), I carefully placed the egg back in the drawer, and told them kindly to take care of it tomorrow, along with their lava mess of a laundry pile.

Still shaking my head, I wished them sweet dreams, jelly beans and shut out the light.

12/100