Note: The Weirdo is now known as Kid Sensation. Because Sir-Mix-a-Lot.
There is a reason my son is named the Destroyer–every single thing he even gets near disintegrates. It doesn’t matter what it is. Stone, plastic, metal–it really does not matter. And God forbid I buy wine glasses. I have seem him try to put one away and the glass part snapped clean off the stem during the sink-to-cupboard journey (all of two feet). I genuinely hope he never stands near any plutonium.
The accidental destruction doesn’t much bother me. It’s the senseless, stupid crap that he does that causes destruction. Like when he tries to jump over the dog and somehow kicks the printer over. Or swings a dining chair around and is somehow shocked when it flies across the room, nearly killing Kid Sensation and ending a lamp’s life. RIP, lamp.
Of course, I always ask the same question, usually at the top of my lungs: “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”
What is absolutely maddening and infuriating is this: He never, ever, ever knows why. NEVER.
But when I think about it, this may be something peculiar to carriers of the Y chromosome. Not that us XXers never do anything stupid, it’s just that more often than not, we know why we’ve done said stupid thing. Usually it’s to prove a point, or alcohol is involved.
But, as usual, I digress.
The reason I boil it down to the XY combo is this: I often have to yell the aforementioned question to my husband. And he’s 37.
Like the time he brought a stray dog home and then promptly left for work.
Or the time he threw our huge dog with untrimmed claws into our inflatable pool filled ice cold water.
The time he almost tore the whole house down because a squirrel got in. The squirrel would never have caused that much damage.
Oh, I could go on for days. But I would love to hear someone else’s tales of senseless woe. Please share. Otherwise I will be forced to conclude that this is somehow my fault.