My house is covered in lentils.

There was an evening this past week where my toddler, Forest, howled with anger every time I put him down on the ground. My eight-year-old was fighting with my five-year-old and the noise was driving me crazy. I just wanted some peace so that I could focus on getting supper on the stove. Delicious meatballs, in case you were wondering. Sweet and sour and oh-so-good. The kind of meatballs that kids live for. Well, not mine. All three of my kids hate meatballs.

But I love meatballs and James loves meatballs and I was determined to get supper going. I was trying to be frugal by substituting lentils for a portion of the hamburger meat, so I had a bag of lentils on the counter. When Forest started grabbing for the bag, I figured that a handful or two of dried lentils might buy me a few minutes to roll up the meat. I put Forest on the floor with the bag and a mixing bowl and a measuring cup and he immediately started scooping the lentils out. Awesome. I turned back to the counter.

A moment later, I heard the distinctive sound that approximately four thousand lentils hitting the floor makes. Like a whooshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It was kind of soothing, actually. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Forest had emptied half the bag onto the floor. Meh. Lentils are super cheap. With my blessing, Forest smeared the lentils across the floor.

A mess, you ask? Try a “healthy sensory activity”. That’s what Pinterest tells me, at least.

Never take advice from Pinterest.

But back to the meatballs. I filled up two trays, popped them in the oven for 15 minutes, and then started on the sauce. I grabbed the vinegar, soy sauce and cornstarch from the cupboard, then picked some lentils off the bottom of my socks. I added brown sugar and ground ginger to the pot, then used my foot to brush some of the lentils on the floor off to the side so I wouldn’t keep stepping on them. What next? Water and orange juice, which I hoped would be a decent substitute for pineapple juice.

As the sauce began to simmer, I stopped to pick more lentils off my socks. Then I grabbed the broom and swept a lentil-free path alongside the counter. Forest had moved his lentil scooping operation to the dining area, which was helpful because I had to open the oven and get the meatballs out.

They smelled good.

I grabbed the cutting board, plus a few peppers, five carrots, and a stabby pineapple. Then I took off my socks because I was tired of lentils sticking to them. I could feel every tiny one pressing on the bottom of my foot like 4000 tiny massage stones — except annoying more than relaxing.

Next came the rice. When I pulled the huge bag out of the pantry, Forest immediately ran back into the kitchen. Do you know what’s better than dried lentils? Dried rice. Ha! Not this time, kiddo. I quickly measured out two cups and put the bag away. While the meatballs and the rice simmered gently on the stove, I grabbed the broom again and kept sweeping. And sweeping. And sweeping. And for the rest of the night, it’s pretty much all I did.

The lentils were everywhere. They were all over the floor. By bedtime, they had taken over every room in the house. They were against the baseboards. They covered the kitchen floor. They spread to my living room couch, the bathroom floor, and burrowed into all three bedroom carpets.

They were in my bed.

Every room had lentils, plus an abandoned lentil-covered sock or two.

My house looks like a confetti bomb went off. Or maybe a lentil-filled pinata, which would be the saddest birthday party surprise ever. Actually, it reminds me of grade nine, when my best friend turned 14 and I surprised her by dumping a bottle of glitter in her locker. Glitter, of course, is the devil. You can’t get it off of anything. Years later, we checked to see if the glitter was still there. It was. Looking back, I’m surprised I wasn’t billed for damage to school property.

And that is what I’m dealing with a day later. The pulse-equivalent of glitter. Forest and I spent an entire morning washing the floors, removing every lentil by hand — but they keep coming back. And every time I put Forest down on the ground so that I can sweep them up, Forest howls in protest. Though I might have some luck right now if I try. He’s busy playing with magic markers, so that should keep him busy for a bit. And what could go wrong with that?