We had a wonderful weekend morning – an early awakening, Eggos and eggs for breakfast, and then we set out for Stan’s Donuts and pumpkin carving kits. (We do try hard to portray the image of picture perfect suburban bliss. Conscious attempts at this illusion result in blog posts.)
When 12:30 rolled around, we headed upstairs – muppets not terribly thrilled with the idea of naptime and mommy and daddy REALLY praying for above-par powers of persuasion. Turns out, they suck.
By the time the adults descended the stairs, the video monitor showed two distinctly empty beds. We could hear them chattering in the background. But there were no screams – so…there was potential.
Then there was a nuclear flash of light upon Screen 2 of the aforementioned video monitor. I went upstairs to investigate the chaos carnage.
The room was empty. Except I know that despite their creative collusions, neither of them can open the door; it has a child safety lock knob. So, potential locations were limited.
The blackout curtains at the back of the room fluttered. I heard laughter.
Standing atop the backrest of the futon in their room, Search and Destroy had tucked themselves behind the drapery as they investigated the potential for the legendary Bounce House. (Once. Once they went down for nap and woke up to a bounce house in the backyard. Toddler translation: NEVER LET THE FUN SNEAK UP ON YOU! There is no bounce house in our backyard.)
I immediately became concerned that a tiny person would strangle himself. Jon verified the pull-strings on the blinds were child proofed. But just in case, we moved the futon away from the wall.
Jon then spent the next hour emotionlessly entering the room, placing muppets back into bed, exiting the room, watching muppets climb out of bed via video monitor, and then repeating the process. Finally he came downstairs. “My will is broken. They’ve defeated me.”
How about some quiet time? It seemed like a worthy compromise. Or at least toddlers would be contained in a safe area so non-toddlers could nap/consume mass quantities of caffeine.
Again, it seemed quiet. But we no longer had a visual. To leave them be? To forfeit naptime and concede defeat?
And then I heard the clattering metal.
This was a securely child-proofed room. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what metal object they had.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!” I heard Jon shout. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”
The electrical wall plate had been ripped from the wall. Completely. The socket was 100 percent exposed. (Because seriously – who needs to futz with those silly safety socket plugs if you can just remove the whole damn thing.)
But what was the metal noise, I’m sure you’re wondering.
That would be their little Search and Destroy novelty license plates. Which they were resolutely poking at the now entirely exposed socket.
Toddlers. Living life with the sole intent of discovering how to end it. Or at least significantly shorten mom and dad’s lifespan.