What does my son, Snags, do in the mornings while he’s waiting for me to take my shower and get dressed so I can drop him at school and get myself off to work?
Well, he does stuff like you see in this photo. That is the “trap” he made to trap me upstairs one morning. And no, I haven’t left my Christmas decorations up for the last 2 months; I leave them up all the time. I never take them down. Okay, not really. But I had you there for a moment, didn’t I?
Actually, Snags set up THAT trap back in December, but I don’t have any recent trap photos to share because I’ve forbidden the child from setting any new traps. Anyway, he used approximately 1 entire JUMBO roll of Quilted Northern toilet paper, ran it up and down the hallway from our kitchen to near the front door, (and while I don’t live in a mansion by any means, it is a pretty long hallway) then wrapped it around the banister at the bottom of the stairs to trap me.
If it’s not toilet paper, it’s the yarn from my knitting bin. If it’s not yarn, then it’s my old beading supplies (huh, I have a lot of old crafting hobbies I seem to have abandoned). Or the Halloween decorations. Or the Easter baskets. Or the wrapping paper, the ribbons. Often, it’s water. Poured into cups, bowls, candle holders, vases, and carried around the house, dripping a trail behind him, down the hallway, up the stairs, onto his bed. Or mixed with stuff – bits of thread, cotton balls, crumbs of food, and stuck in the freezer as a “science experiment”.
It’s NEVER his toys. In fact, I once took ALL his toys away as punishment for making just such a mess, and I locked them up. Snags didn’t care. His toys stayed in bins locked in the basement for a good 6 months before he seemed to notice they were gone.
He does all this steadily, quietly, and deliberately. And he’s always so surprised to find out I’m not happy over his creation.
You know the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? At my house, it’s more like a little destroyer boy at the tail end of the mess. At least I always know where to find him.
Running With Books 