Ruination
You know, people warned me before I became a parent that kids were destructive little critters. I believed them-- I can remember some of my more messy and ruinous escapades as a child. But I just didn't realize how destructive my own brood would be. I've written about it before, and sometimes I wonder if this is normal or if my kids are extra destructive.
Let me give you an example: we current have only one chair left for our kitchen table. We started with six. These are wooden chairs, sturdy ones too (we went for function rather than style). Granted, it took years, but my kids managed to destroy five wooden chairs. Not only that, but when the wooden chairs bit the dust, we started replacing them with metal folding chairs. Indestructible, right? Or close to it? Nope. I only have two of those left. Sooo, is this normal carnage? Or a bit extreme?
But maybe it's not just my kids...things just seem to break around here. Our fridge is falling apart and it is only four years old. Plastic parts crack off of my vacuum nearly every time I use it. My washer-- less than three years old-- gives me an error code two out of three loads. The screen on my beloved storm door has pulled out of the frame, without any of the kids even touching it.
Worse, I seem to be prone to wrecking things myself lately. At least in the category of electronic death by water. I left my ipod in the pocket of a pair of capris and ran them through the washer (no, the rice-in-the-bag trick didn't work). I forgot that I had clipped the garage door opener to the back of my swim shorts (I rode my bike over to the pool) then got off the bike and went for a swim without removing it (this time the remote recovered through the drying process). The worst was probably when I clipped the garage door remote to my pants and went for a long run. About an hour in I had to use the bathroom desperately and stopped at a port-a-potty that was along my route. Only I forgot about the remote again and this time it dropped into the pot (I don't know if the drying process would have revived it-- I wasn't desperate enough to try to get it out of there).
Come to think of it, I can't even blame all of the broken chairs on the kids. I distinctly remember Terence sitting in one of the metal chairs and having it bend in two. Par for the course, I guess.
And it goes on . . . my mother, after seeing us stand around our table to eat, took pity on us and order two wooden benches to go on either side of the table. They came two days ago-- beautiful oak benches. S inaugurated them into family life within only a couple of hours by decorating them with marker scribbles. I guess I should be grateful it was only marker!
Let me give you an example: we current have only one chair left for our kitchen table. We started with six. These are wooden chairs, sturdy ones too (we went for function rather than style). Granted, it took years, but my kids managed to destroy five wooden chairs. Not only that, but when the wooden chairs bit the dust, we started replacing them with metal folding chairs. Indestructible, right? Or close to it? Nope. I only have two of those left. Sooo, is this normal carnage? Or a bit extreme?
But maybe it's not just my kids...things just seem to break around here. Our fridge is falling apart and it is only four years old. Plastic parts crack off of my vacuum nearly every time I use it. My washer-- less than three years old-- gives me an error code two out of three loads. The screen on my beloved storm door has pulled out of the frame, without any of the kids even touching it.
Worse, I seem to be prone to wrecking things myself lately. At least in the category of electronic death by water. I left my ipod in the pocket of a pair of capris and ran them through the washer (no, the rice-in-the-bag trick didn't work). I forgot that I had clipped the garage door opener to the back of my swim shorts (I rode my bike over to the pool) then got off the bike and went for a swim without removing it (this time the remote recovered through the drying process). The worst was probably when I clipped the garage door remote to my pants and went for a long run. About an hour in I had to use the bathroom desperately and stopped at a port-a-potty that was along my route. Only I forgot about the remote again and this time it dropped into the pot (I don't know if the drying process would have revived it-- I wasn't desperate enough to try to get it out of there).
Come to think of it, I can't even blame all of the broken chairs on the kids. I distinctly remember Terence sitting in one of the metal chairs and having it bend in two. Par for the course, I guess.
And it goes on . . . my mother, after seeing us stand around our table to eat, took pity on us and order two wooden benches to go on either side of the table. They came two days ago-- beautiful oak benches. S inaugurated them into family life within only a couple of hours by decorating them with marker scribbles. I guess I should be grateful it was only marker!
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