I pulled back the blackout drapes in the girl's room, presumably to Clorox wipe them and Windex the finger prints off the window... after hacking from all the dust that kicked up... I noticed something odd. Odd and disturbing. It sent me flying right off my handle:
Those are my dreamy plantation shutters... and those are! BITE MARKS!
WHAT THE FLAGNON?! (thanks, Rainn Wilson)
Am I raising a herd of goats, here?! Chewing?! On my SHUTTERS?!
I hate to say this, but it seems necessary to emphasize. The list of things I cherish... in order of importance:
1. My shutters. Because to me, nothing says
"You've arrived, kid!" like plantation shutters.
2. The kiddos
3. The Husband. (sorry, dude)
I know it's so wrong on so many levels. But there it is, folks.
I still do not know what is going on up there once I turn off the lights and hustle downstairs for my "me time." Apparently there is some pretty weird stuff going down. What is the reasoning behind this?! The teething argument only goes so far! They're freaking four! I may expect something like this from Little Man... his goal in life is to reduce his fabulous crib to a toothpick. But the preschoolers?!
WHY, CHILDREN, WHY?!
Do I really have to tell them to not chew on the window treatments?! Apparently the answer is yes. And let me tell you... it was hard to calm down after that. I was theeeeessss close to disowning the little goat.