Last week I was upstairs getting some reading done/enjoying me time when I heard a crash that can only come from a house with a toddler running loose. I ran downstairs fearing blood gushing from an open wound, broken limbs.. etc. I saw a sheepish-looking Jeremy who said.. "I..uh.. dropped the remote. (I know the sound of a remote falling.. and that DEFINITELY was not the crash that drew me from my book). He then said.. and I broke the cabinet.
That is right our cabinets are seriously busted, yo. The worst part was not our darling, spirited toddler, but his rowdy father did the deed. I just went outside, sat on the step in the garage and started crying (combo of preg hormones/cleaning all day just to have messes to clean up/husband just laughing). A concerned little JJ, quickly came out to tell me that "daddy broke that,""how is your day goin?" and "daddy is in trouble, huh?" It was sort of hard to stay mad after that. I mean, could JJ be more hilarious? Or have a better dad?? The cabinet broke while Jeremy was playing with his son. Although, I wish they were more careful, I am happy that JJ has such an adoring father.
But it got worse....
A few days later I went to the glass candy pumpkin for a few yummy dark m & ms when I saw a strategically-placed lid that had clearly and unceremoniously been broken in half. I picked up what remained of the lid and turned to my husband. He just said.. "when I broke that, I felt so bad, I didn't know what to do."
Apparently telling me, replacing it, or cleaning up the broken glass didn't top that list.
It was okay.. It is like a 9 dollar candy jar, but the events of this week have left me wondering if instead of baby proofing, I should be husband proofing?? What will I do with THREE BOYS running around this place???