Why my house is a shit-show

Yesterday, within a span of about half an hour, Zeke:

• tasted something I had offered him, decided he didn't like it, and "wiped" whatever it was (probably some sort of vegetable, I don't remember) off of his tongue by licking the couch;
• went off to the bathroom fully clothed but came back naked, having left his clothing next to the toilet;
• dumped his bucket of Mr. Potatohead parts all over the living room floor to play with them, only to abandon them when the next shiny thing caught his eye; and
• sprayed water all over the couch in an effort to "help me clean up."

Meanwhile, in approximately the same time span, Josie:

• ate half a cereal bar but crumbled the other half in her fists and threw the crumbs in the air;
• took off her diaper, played for awhile, peed on the floor and then used her hands to spread the pee around;
• took clean laundry that I had just folded out of the laundry basket and flung it around; and
• pulled pots and pans out of the cupboard and arranged them throughout the kitchen.

Everyone with kids tells me to cherish these early years because they fly by so quickly. 

That rapid passage of time doesn't seem like such a bad thing sometimes.