It has begun.
Tuesday I fumbled down the stairs in search of my morning caffeine and I saw this:
It gave me an extreme case of déjà vu.
I had a memory of this happening on February 19th:
I looked at my phone. It was in fact March and I had not traveled back in time.
I glanced at my husband, noticing the smile in his eyes, the twinkle of pride – and it was not for my bed-head hair.
“Why are you putting the easel together again?” I asked my son.
“Because I took it apart, Mommy. I wanted to see how it worked.”
My husband practically beamed, shots of light shooting out of his ears – though it might have been the glare of the too-bright overhead lights forcing my eyes to squint.
I shook my head, stumbling to the fridge for my caffeine intake.
I tried not to think about which items in my house needed to be locked away before my son attempted to dismantle them.
My husband found me after the reassembly was completed and told me, “You aren’t allowed to get mad.”
“Did I act mad? Nooooo…” We’d already has this discussion years before, my husband sharing his childhood of taking apart everything he could get his hands on – rebuilding car engines with his dad at the age of five. “But if he takes the TV or my laptop apart, all bets are off.”
If only there was someplace to hide the TV….
* * *
Has your child (or did you) ever deconstruct a beloved object? Did they (or you) get into trouble for it?