That Was A Poor Choice

Mr. Poppers Penguins appeared at our house around Thanksgiving, courtesy of my mother-in-law who was reading it to the children. She left the book here when she went home for a week.

Ron REALLY wanted her to finish the book. When she arrived for Christmas he immediately asked if she had remembered to bring the book. She told him she had left it here. Things deteriorated quickly from there, as they argued over the location of the book. Finally, she announced emphatically "I left it here, right on top of the dryer in the kitchen!" Big horrified silence ...

Ron sighed and muttered with disgusted resignation "Well. THAT was a poor choice." Demonstrating his belief that the book is now in the depths of a landfill somewhere far far away.

See, in our little world, I am often the source of second chances. And third chances. And fourth chances. Unless you make the choice to leave something on top of the washer/dryer in the kitchen. Bad things happen to whatever is left there.

Clutter is bad. A cluttered kitchen is evil. Nothing good comes of leaving clutter on the washer/dryer. I will go totally nuts if my kitchen is all cluttery! If I happen to be in the kitchen when a crazy person attempts to drop something on that handily empty space on top of the dryer I will caution "That would be a poor choice" in a grim quiet tone. But, I can't protect them from themselves all the time. Invariably they yield to the temptation like its a "wet paint" sign that needs to be touched. Stuff accumulates there, until its not there anymore.

Now, at least I know he's actually listening to that grim quiet voice predicting doom. (And, yes, the book was gone. But it only went as far as the coat-closet shelf, because I'm not nuts enough to throw out books)


Ah, a lesson that got through to them!

I may have to institute this rule with the buffet in the kitchen! Hmmm....

I'll tell them to thank Lucy, and then they'll spend all their time trying to figure out what Narnia has to do with it!


Leni | 12/31/2005 - 04:38 PM

At least I'm not named Edmund! What a horrid little toad he was.

Lucy | 12/31/2005 - 07:28 PM

Oh, he was, wasn't he? My 8 yo was sitting next to me, muttering under her breath. I finally leaned down to hear what she was saying, and she was whispering, "Oooh, that boy needs a spankin'!"

Leni | 01/01/2006 - 03:06 PM
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