Saturday, January 16th, 2010
As a parent I have explained to Aiden and Madeleine countless times that Charlotte is a ball of destruction. Nothing in her path is safe from her need to test the durability of whatever object she has her sights set on. Of course when I explain this I am met with crickets chirping and blank stares. Of course Aiden leaves his foam glider on the coffee table and of course Charlotte dissects it. The circle of siblings. Tempers flair, accusations are thrown and Aiden was not speaking to Charlotte for awhile. Like five minutes. Until I explained to him that he had it coming. Harsh. I began to list all the things of Charlottes that he has “taken apart” and this includes her baby swing. Yeah and it didn’t go back together. Suddenly a five cent foam glider doesn’t seem so important. I also offered up a story from my childhood. My sad sad childhood. A story about my dad letting my sister put our bird in my Barbie van. When I came home to play with my beloved toy, it was defiled with bird excrement. Things like that just don’t leave you. It hits you to the core. Now if you will excuse me I have to add that to my memoirs.