WWF Style
Cardin has more toys than we know what to do with and I’m pretty sure they have started to procreate on their own now. I heard squeaking from the toy box the other day. I was growing tired of stepping on small plastic animals, Lego pieces, and the occasional fish cracker so I deemed Monday night “playroom creation night at the Mayer’s”.
You see Internet, our basement is partially finished and Brett’s man cave has been relegated to one corner of the basement now. The basement was finished when we bought the house, and in all honesty, it was one of the biggest selling points as we saw major potential in a future playroom. Up until this point, the basement potential has yet to be realized as Cardin has really been to little to be left unattended. Well….without a visit from child protective services I suppose. However, in recent weeks I’ve been letting her off the leash more and more and luckily, she comes back each time we call her.
We moved 99% of the living room toys down to the basement Monday night and gated it off so Cardin can’t wander around and play with ninja’s litter or go touch the furnace. She loves the open area and runs around the support beam. When pole dancing starts we may have a new issue on hand. It’s nice that she can have a whole room to destroy and I can have a living room to entertain people that doesn’t appear as if toys r us just vomited all over the floor.
In an effort to organize the basement, I was sitting on the floor combining bins of lego toys and I managed to dig out an old whiteboard eraser that went to Cardin’s easel; we had been in search of said eraser for month, figuring it had been consumed by the all encompassing mass of toys. I handed it to Cardin and she happily danced away with it. Unbeknownst to me, Cardin came running at me, full force, like an army brigade charging the gates of the next castle it was about to take down, and smacked me upside the head with the eraser. Leaving me in a cloud of dry erase dust, I was so shocked with the flutter of activity that I didn’t know how to respond and I sat there, a bewildered look on my face, unable to form words or reprimand.
Meanwhile, Brett had watched the whole battle scene play out and his only response was one of stifled laughter. He managed to sputter out, “Cardin, please don’t bash mommy in the head with erasers” only to crumble into another fit of laughter again. Thanks hon, for all that supportive parenting.
Listen Lady, at some point in the parenting regime I figured we’d have to tell our kids not to bite or throw balls inside the house; I did not bank on having to tell them that it is inappropriate to play WWF with erasers.