Because let’s be realistic; we need to move, but we’re not buying a house in Boro Park.
A perfectly small square, bookended by a garbage can and highchair, which take up precious real estate, but remain in place anyway, because, well, babies. And garbage.
Every year or so, during a random suppertime when little people vie for elbow space and the third cup of water spills, I rotate my kitchen table. From one minute to the next I’ll decide, “If I rotate the table, there will be so much more space.”
For the next whole week, we all wow the extra space and wonder why nobody thought of this brilliant idea sooner.
But then, after a week, we realize whatever space we gained in the width, we lost it in the length.
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