I remember my mom laughing when my big sister decided to get nice leather furniture when two of her kids were under the age of five. I remember her laughing, loudly, mockingly.
I know why now. My mom had five girls and anything nice that made it into the house, never made it out alive. I remember strategically placing a cabbage patch stamp right in the middle of one of her pictures, and being very proud of it. I remember falling through the glass door of the high tech stereo system. Yes, her laughing was well informed.
I have just purchased a new living room suit and am super nervous. I have a six month old and a 3 year old. What was I thinking?
I purchased the protection plan at an additional sum, it alone exceeding the amount I have ever spent on all the furniture I’ve ever owned. Is that going to be enough to keep from allowing my kids to be kids around my nice things?
I guess that’s my biggest fear.
What if having nice things makes me a high strung screaming banshee of a mom, protecting my precious things form the heathens running amok in my home?
It’s almost not worth it. Well, almost.
I have a mountain bike that sits in a trainer in prime real estate in my small house. It has to be in a climate controlled area. My kids are not allowed to touch it (really I’d prefer they not even look at it), and my husband has made the mistake of throwing a pair of pants on the handle bars once. I mean, is having a nice couch and chair much different?
I refuse the idea that my kids can’t be expected to learn to behave in a manner that refrains from the destruction of personal property
Do they have to be allowed to destroy everything to enable their delicate brains to develop to well adjusted maturation? That would be a no. Not in my house anyway. I have few rules that prevent my kids from getting to be kids. I think a couch, chair, ottoman and a bicycle are not too much to ask to not destroy.
Sorry, kids. We are about to get a lot of learning experiences and opportunities to grow in to productive citizens, cause momma’s getting a new couch. I can hear my mom cackling somewhere.