Strategic destruction, or just coincidence?

The mother of three boys, I try to be realistic about bringing things into my home that could end up karate kicked across the room, poked with sharp instruments or otherwise destroyed. But sometimes I just can’t help myself. Case in point, a small collection of mid-century modern furniture (Noguchi table, Eames leather lounge chair/ottoman, Nelson bench, etc.) has made its way into various rooms in the house. I totally dig them all.

So, recently Allen has entered the “let’s see what happens when I do this” phase, climbing up to the highest shelf in my office to reach my pens and smuggling them into another room while I’m otherwise distracted. I’ve had to get the upholstery cleaner out on more than one occasion and each time I’ve drilled into him, “Paper? Yes! Walls? No! Paper, Sure! Chair? No! Paper? Okay! Table? No! No!” You get the idea.

Then the curiosity turned from my pens to the tools in the garage.

I heard that “Oh, no…” and you would be right.

We turned on the voice-notification on the alarm months ago so we’d know when someone was entering/leaving the house (another possibly worse curiosity problem) so when I found Allen in the garage with the hammer a couple days ago, I was able to contain the problem rather quickly and without any real damage to him or any property.

Then today Allen realized he could conveniently fit through the dog door and the light bulb went off again.

And of course, just when I was completely focused on work, my left brain registers that I’m hearing a pounding noise coming from somewhere… perhaps the next room… Hmm?

Oh, dear. This is where I leave out all the embarrassing details of my knee-jerk reaction (don’t worry, it didn’t involve violence) and Allen running for cover.

So, now my Nelson bench has several indentations that I’m guessing will not increase in value any time, ever.

It reminds me of the time Dean systematically destroyed two of my first edition Edith Wharton novels with a pink highlighter pen when he was Allen’s age.

Forgive. Forget. Replace?

More proof that he’s not the perfect child he appears to be coming soon . . .