The little man has his own room at my parents' house for when he visits or sleeps over. There's a bed, nightstand and possibly a floor. It's hard to tell with all the action figures waging war in various ships and battlegrounds. Little green army guys are fighting alongside members of G.I. Joe. Transformers are joined in battle with Bakugan. There are tanks, boats, helicopters and other transports as well.
Anyway, some out of town relatives are coming to visit and will most likely be coming to see their new house. I suggested to little man that we "straighten out" his room to make it presentable for company. More than likely this will include me trying to figure out which faction goes into what tote box.
Me: Is this guy from G.I. Joe?
Little Man: No Mom, he belongs to Halo.
How silly of me to not know the difference. At least I can identify the Star Wars characters. Yay!
I told my mom of our intention to clean up his room and she replied in true grandmother-type fashion.
My mom: Oh that's not necessary. It's a child's room. It's supposed to have toys all over.
I stared blankly, blinked a couple times, and did a cartoon-like head shake. Did I hear correctly? Where was this woman when I was eight-years old? My room was called a disaster area if I had toys all over. And I HAD to clean it up. So. Not. Fair.
I'm still going to make little man make his room look presentable, if only to just get under his and mom's skins a little. Hey, if I had to do it, so does he! So there!