I have turned into a 1950's housewife. I baked biscuits for Henry's breakfast today and cleaned Adam's closet. No, he didn't ask me to. My nesting instinct has kicked in with a vengance and I cannot stop cleaning and organizing. Every time I passed his closet I thought about how much extra storage space we might have if I moved things around a bit. Henry's favorite new game is moving things out of the way and pretending to vacuum.
Someone please stop me, my former self is horrified.