Little Cabin Boy

As cute as this photo is, these kinds of pics are few and far between at our house.

Little man is a clean freak. He despises having a dirty face and dirty hands.

Unlike most 2-year-old little boys, little man hates to be dirty. I have no idea how many napkins our household consumes in a month. During the normal course of meal, little man frequently waves his hands in the air, signaling that he needs a napkin STAT. He then cautiously wipes off his hands and face before diving into his plate for another bite. Because, as much as little man hates to be messy ... he also loves to eat.

However, unlike the ritual of throwing his socks on the living room floor, I cannot blame my husband for this one.

Mama has been accused of being a clean freak, as well.

I admit it - I am one of those people who love to clean. A messy house makes me feel anxious and chaotic. So ... I clean ... and clean ... and clean. I love to make it sparkle.

I had hoped little man would appreciate my affinity for cleanliness. I had hoped he would grow up learning to pick up his room, keep things organized and generally pick up after himself.

But, I have created a monster.

A 3" tall, soapy clean monster.

During my husband's college days there was a fraternity brother of his that took clean freak to a new level. Not only was his room spotless, but he also organized his shirts by color. He had special floor mats for his car that he would put in when other people were to be riding in it for fear they would have dirt on their shoes. His fraternity nickname was Cabin Boy.

Cabin Boy was by far more of a clean freak than I ever was. As a fellow clean freak, you would think I would commiserate with him, but even I found his obsession too ... obsessive.

And then I had little man. Or, as we call him, little Cabin Boy.

As I have written before, little man is obsessed with vacuum cleaners, or as he calls them, dooms. I believe this has much to do with his affinity for cleanliness. And as proud as I am that I am now not the only clean freak in our household, I do find it a bit strange. And although I don't organize his shirts by color, I have a feeling one day I will walk in to find little man on his step stool, carefully organizing his shirts.

On the weekend, while most little boys are playing with their toy trucks or tinkering in the garage with their daddies, my little man insists on helping me clean. He gets out his doom and goes around the house, dooming. I have to give him a spare rag so he can ramble about the house, "cleaning" things. He even once, during a bout of stomach flu meets hardwood floor, ran to the kitchen, grabbed a towel and proceeded to try to help me "clean." While most little boys simply want a change of clothes and a hug from mommy when they have the stomach flu, my little man was more concerned about the hardwood floor.

So, here I am at a crossroads I never thought I would be at. While I want little man to know that it's OK to get dirty ... the clean freak in me does cringe at little dirt specks on my fresh vacuum tracks. And while I am proud that at 2, little man does have a sense of cleanliness and hygiene, I do realize that all little boys must play in mud puddles ... it's almost like a rite of passage.

So long as there is a hot bath full of bubbles waiting inside, that is.

It's a vicious inner-battle: one in which my mind acknowledges that it really is OK to have some mess ... yet the other half of me yields to the clean freak as soon as I spot the tiniest speck of dirt halfway across the room. As a mother, do I encourage little man that it's OK to be dirty, or revel in the fact that I now share a house with someone who understands the need to be clean?

Raise the next generation of Cabin Boys or try to head the obsession off at the pass in hopes of making little man a little less clean and a little more normal?

I'll have to get back to you on that one.