About a week ago Z broke a bottle of bright red nail polish on the white carpet in our master bedroom. Nice. Bright red isn't even a good color for him.
Yesterday I walked into a blue polka dotted kitchen. After much interrogation of the kidlets I unearthed that Zachary had wanted to be a cowboy and decided to lasso his yogurt stick. After I finished scraping 1,000 blue dots off of the cabinets/floor/sink/paint on the wall/light switch/windows/cookbooks/kitchen rug/how much damn yogurt is in one of these sticks/, we (well not really me) came to the conclusion that this mess was my fault and I am a bad mom because there is no way he can be a real cowboy without a rope.
Yeah, right I am going to give this kid a rope, Lord knows what kind of damage he would do to our house with that. Someone please buy our house now, I'm not sure we have enough insurance to cover what is going to happen next.
Yeah, right I am going to give this kid a rope, Lord knows what kind of damage he would do to our house with that. Someone please buy our house now, I'm not sure we have enough insurance to cover what is going to happen next.
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When our house was on the market, Brett was so proud of himself because he wrote his name. We were proud, too, until we discovered it was on a white door in the basement with a Sharpie. When I used the magic eraser to get it off, i ended up taking off the paint as well. Good times. Hope your house sells soon!
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