Children are often imputed with having a short attention span. I will admit that such a tendency comes in handy when two preschoolers are bent on having the same doll and I whisk in with a monkey puppet. One of the techniques that got me through motherhood was Wait 5 Minutes. When a younger kid demanded to have the only red marker that still had ink, and the older sibling was intent on drawing an apple, I winked. 

"Remember? Wait 5 minutes," I mouthed.

Usually in less than two the grabby kid would forget his insistence and put the marker down in order to pick up the blue. Then the more patient, if conniving older sister could surreptitiously adopt the red marker. Peace reigned. 

But kids can also exhibit tenacity. 

John pulled out his best magic tricks for the marriage conference, and since three Silkies hatched that week he did the Crack-Eggs-Into-A-Dish-And-They-Turn-Into-Chicks number. It was a smash. Literally. As he was cleaning up from the show a little boy with urgency in his voice approached him.

"Please, can I buy a chick?"

Huh? This was not a sales job. It was entertainment. He tried to brush the boy off. 

"I have my own money. Please can I buy one?"

"Uh, ask my wife," was John's escape strategy. The boy found me and redoubled his pleading. I was thrown off kilter. The confounding detail was the fact that his family owned more chickens than I do. But apparently no chicks. That were his. All through lunch and into the afternoon the boy hounded me, and eventually I agreed. One chick. He handed me two dollars and promised to set up a warm spot at his house before I delivered. 

When I got home I relayed the events to the twins, expecting them to laugh. 

"NOOOO!!!" they wailed. "It will die of loneliness! You can't!!!!" They were resolute. 

"Ok," I agreed. "I will tell his mother the deal is off."

Fate however smiled on me. Before he had time to cry into his pillow the local feed store had baby chicks coming in and his parents magnanimously bought him three. So no one would be friendless. 

For most of a month I fully intended to use the upcoming spring break to conquer corners of the house that needed it. The basement. John's office. The yard. My sewing room. Yes. This was my plan. 

But as the slower pace of vacation stretched its legs, I found myself quilting. Reading out loud with the twins. Watching my chickens. I even baked brownies. 

But the clutter stayed cluttered. 

Would that I had the gumption of a little boy with empty hands.