This morning I mopped my floor while I was at the grocery store.
We’ve had a new friend in our house for awhile; his name is Scooba and we love him. You may be more familiar with his cousin, Roomba. Scooba has changed our lives. He lives in our broom closet and has evicted the mop.
Scooba cleans for 45 minutes a time, and because he is rather loud while doing his work, we usually have him clean when we’re out of the house or in bed. Which can be a problem because Scooba is not very smart. Scooba gets stuck on things like heating vents and under tables. And when he gets stuck like this, he screams loudly and flashes a light that says, “I’m stuck.” It’s very disappointing to come home to a flashing, screaming Scooba and a dirty floor. This happened to me yesterday when we went out with Scooba cleaning the kitchen.
The great thing about Scooba–besides the fact that I haven’t physically mopped my kitchen floor in a good six months–is that it is not only Alex and I who consider him to be part of our family, but Quinn as well. Just prior to Scooba’s disappointing performance yesterday (for which I grounded him) Quinn casually bid him adieu while passing him on the way to the car: “Bye, bye, robot!”