This is funny to anyone who has ever lived with little Tasmanian Devils.
Our three boys trash my husbands workshop. It is as if you put a room in a dryer and run it. So basically if they go in there that room will look like any room the boys inhabit for more than 20 minutes.
Jim put a passcode lock on the door a long time ago. That doesn’t work because I need tools too. Over time I gave the passcode to the kids so I don’t have to walk them down and get whatever they need. This passcode is given while making them promise they wont “Tazmanian Devil” all over the room.
Last night Jim reorganized the space.
He sent me this text this morning.
“Your passcode to basement garage is ****. If you give it to our kids I will drown your kittens, make the dog resemble an opossum, and pour bacon grease all over/into your hair products so the ugly dog follows around and stares at you eternally.”
So, he is mental. Right?
Also, remember he gave the dog a haircut around her mouth after he was convinced her breath smelled because of her face fur and she looked like the squirrel from Ice Age.
He means business.
He also didn’t include the *Do not post this to Facebook.
So, here it is. I wonder if I can have doors put on the kitchen today with locks. Imagine what they do to the kitchen if what they do to the workshop invokes crazy town on my husband’s brain. Now make that image twice as bad as it is in your head and THAT is what three boys do to the kitchen in the center of the house. I pulled underwear off the kitchen table when they went to school today.