Back in April, just about the time I was trying to untie my creativity from a paralysis of over-analysis and get the last few pages of The Truth about Trolls laid out, Thing2 was exploring his and putting my resolve not to limit it to the test. His spring time creative effort led to a rock pile in the middle of his room, the fruits of a "quarry" he and a couple friends had started near the kids' Lord of the Flies training ground in the woods behind our house.That was three weeks ago. The rock pile is still there.He's cleaned his room. I have cleaned his room-a bit. Laundry has been done. Baths have been had. But that rock pile is still there.At first thing to wanted to hang onto it. Then he was afraid he wouldn't clean it up the right way. It was a story writing itself (Élly has been very understanding, as long as her pages keep developing). Thing2, aware that the rock pile and the absurdities of our undeclared battle are serving as inspiration, is more determined than ever that it should stay. To his credit, however, he has moved it out of the center of the room so the rest of us can get from point a to point B without breaking or next.I've decided to exercise my mom authority and remove the "inspiration" as soon as he goes to camp or I finish his story, whichever comes first.