Destructo strikes again...

Destructo is Noah. Noah is five years old. Noah is responsible for at least 80% of my gray hair and, likely, 100% of the gray hair that I have seen recently popping up on Tim's head as well.


There is nothing he won't try to take apart and no challenge too great. No emergency room too obscure to deem worthy of a visit to be put back together.

He did a new one yesterday.

The master bedroom door and the door to the main bathroom are across the hall from each other. Both doors open into the rooms that they service.

I got up early to use the facilities across the hall.

When I tried to exit the bathroom the door could not be opened. Well it opened, just about four inches. I managed to look out the door and discovered that someone had tied a rope to the bathroom doorknob...and tied the other end of the rope to the bedroom door. The rope was short enough that when I tried to open the bathroom door it only had enough give to open a few inches...and if anyone in the bedroom (namely, Tim) had tried to open the bedroom door it also would only open a few inches. Trying to open both doors at the same time would have resulted in both doors opening even fewer inches. Pulling harder on the door only succeeded in pulling the knot on the rope tighter so that it was impossible to open.

And, of course, everyone else in the house was asleep. Everyone, that is, but me and the culprit, Destructo.

Thankfully Destructo is not spiteful nor mean, just, well, five years old. He had great glee in taking a knife and cutting through the rope to free his mom.

I just cannot figure out where they get these ideas, though?

I swear, I thought I knew how to parent...until the boys started coming. I really wonder, sometimes, if it is even possible to parent boys, or if the name of the game is really damage control.