Part of me feels very mean spirited with this post... but then I remind myself, that blogging is therapeutic, and the whole reason I'm doing this thing is to vent so I don't go all Pompeii on my family and turn into volcanic ash. Today, we had a playdate. But I wouldn't really call it a playdate, more like a "try to prevent house from being destroyed" date. The folks that come over (unannounced, mind you- ) frequent our house pretty regularly. In the short time we have lived here, this family has: ripped a towl bar off the wall, broken the leg off our dining room table (ouch!), smashed our Halloween pumpkins while ringing our doorbell (2 days prior to Halloween, mind you), emptied the playroom of every toy and scattered them throughout the house, and the piece de la resistance- on their last "visit" they made their way into my bedroom and found Matt's secret stash of trojans and dumped them on the living room floor. They only have 2 kids- one sweet 5 year old girl, and a little boy that's almost 2. It's a lot of work for 2 kids to create such destruction, but with the sustenance of peanut butter and jelly and all of the milk in my fridge, these kids soldier on.
Now, mess is mess. If you have kids, you expect some level of violation in your house. It goes with the territory. However- there is an unspoken Mom rule that you spread the destruction amongst each other. You may come smash my pumpkins, and then I send my little ones over to plug your toilet up with race cars. An eye for eye, a pumpkin for a plumber, I say. But, in this particular case--- it's become a one way street. We have only been to their house twice, and on one of these occasions- the mom shepherded us to the local Chick-fil-A for some chicken nuggets and rotovirus. This family is moving next week. so I'm quickly losing my opportunity for payback. I may load the kids up in my minivan and teach Annie the finer art of t-ping.