When a parent and child come for a weekend visit, you expect armloads of kid crap to migrate from the trunk of their car to the middle of every room in your house. You likewise don't expect the kid to pick up after herself. About these things, I have no complaint.
But what is up with the parents?
Having long since lost control of their own homes, they happily bring chaos into mine. At least the kids only affect the state of my home at ground level. The kids are nothing compared to the swooping carnage that are their parents. I can't even cook this morning because every square inch of counter space—kitchen, dining room, living room, bathrooms—is cluttered with food and trash and dishes and toys that someone was too lazy to put away.
Now pardon me while I go parent the parent. Let's just pray she's figured out the whole wiping-her-own-ass thing.