So I am picking up toys for the 8th time in the same day when my bare foot encounters something suspiciously sticky on the hardwood floor. As I grab a baby wipe to clean up the unidentified mess, I notice a juice box on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. I rest my hand on the table to support my unwanted extra weight when I discover more sticky. Upon further inspection, I see lots of sticky all over the top of the coffee table. This is when I realize that with three children ages 4 and under, my life is full of sticky. I guess you could say that I am "living with sticky."