Years ago, up-to-our-eyeballs in a Son who seems bent on destruction of everything we own, we started calling him The Boy--after Homer Simpson's references to Bart.
He is now almost as tall as Hubby, and starting to look like a man, a little, but I swear to you he is still The Boy. Let me give you a For Instance.
This morning, I needed nail clippers. A few months ago, aware that The Boy has a tendency to pick things up, use them, and then either abandon them wherever he happens to lose interest in them, or, alternatively, break them into tiny pieces and abandon THEM wherever they will be most unattractive, I bought 7 pairs of nail clippers.
I put one on my desk.
I put one in the basket where I keep my nail polish and stuff.
I hid 5 behind that basket.
In recent weeks, I have been finding broken pieces of nail clipper all over the house. Fortunately, I have had my shoes on when I found them, because even a broken nail clipper would be uncomfortable under a bare foot.
Today, I officially have NO nail clippers. They have all been dismantled, or at the very least hidden away in his basement lair.
Hubby says what we need is something big we can give him to destroy, so he won't destroy the stuff we actually need. A sort of Scratching Post. Do they make such a thing? The image of him standing in the middle of the living room, scratching on a 7-foot-tall tube of cardboard as thick as a Sequoia, had me busting a gut laughing, this morning.
On an unrelated note, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story is also hilarious. Key Quote:
"I'm cut in half, pretty bad."