It's after 10:00 p.m. I hear toys rustling around in Weston's bedroom. I go in, turn on the light and see Weston up out of his bed looking sheepish. Then I notice that there are less toys on the floor than when we put him to bed.
Me: Weston, what are you doing?
Weston: I gotta clean up the toys, mama.
Me: You are cleaning up your toys?
Weston: Yes.
So I turned off the light and walked out.
I can still hear him in there finishing up the last bit of legos.
He gets "OCD" from his father's side of the family.