One of my secret housekeeping weapons is the 4-Legged Clean-up Team. I'm always in the kitchen, and I cook dinner nearly every night - but I never give myself enough time (writing, editing, teaching, reading to my girls, running). So I'm chopping, hurling, rinsing, banging and clanging my way through meal prep. I'm a small storm, and look not unlike the Muppet chef with my manic chopping. Meanwhile, my two girls are slinging yogurt and cheerios all over the kitchen. But I don't flinch, because I know within mere seconds my dogs will have licked the floor or high chair clean. CLEAN.
Above are pictures of the most agile members of the clean-up team (Captain Nemo can't get up very easily these days - but as the tallest, he counter cruises and cleans Baby Z's high chair). Also featured is the apple pie I baked last night - cutting the lattice work one-handed with a baby on my hip. The clean-up team was all over the flour sprinkles, dollops of butter, and discarded dough.
Whenever I cook at other people's houses, I have the bad habit of dropping a broccoli floret or crust of bread and leaving it on the floor. Not because I'm lawless and rude, but because I expect a slobbering pack of dogs to swarm upon it.
The problem with the 4-Legged Clean-up Team: they make more mess than they clean. 16 muddy feet!