Dear Georgia,

You sneaky girl. Today your room was a disaster zone, and I asked you to clean it. I worked in the kitchen, and heard various cleaning sounds, such as clunks, crashes, grunts, slides, and grumbles. In a suspiciously short amount of time, you came running down the hall - in your undies. "Where are your clothes?" I asked. "Everything's clean, mom," you reply. Hmmm.

I walk into your room and find this...bed made (not bad for a 3-year old), and clean floor! But what is that guilty face?