aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I swear, you're gonna think I make this stuff up.

I realize when I post this, someone's gonna read it and think to themselves, "she must not pay one bit of attention to those kids." In fact, King sometimes jokes that the three year old acts like he was raised by a pack of wolves. However, I do pay attention. Not unlike a mother wolf, I pace around watching their moves, making sure the danger that lurks around every corner does not sneak up and bite them. My mom teases me. She calls me "the worst case scenario" mom. I can't help it, my overactive mind jumps to the worst thing that could possibly happen if they do thus-n-such.
-Don't jump on daddy's chair, honey, you could fall off and hurt your head or break your arm.
-Be careful not to spin around too much, because you'll fall and hit your head on the wall (living in an almost 100 year old home, our walls are plaster and very very hard!)
-Oh, honey, don't stand up on the dining room chair (see above worst case scenario).
The list goes on, of course and as usual, I digress. Suffice it to say I DO watch the kids very carefully.

After having just fed them a little mid-morning snack and getting ready to eat a late breakfast myself, I walked into the kitchen to pour a cup of cappuccino, because Bia made me crave it, and as I'm walking from the kitchen to the dining room, I hear the sound of a large piece of paper ripping.
To my 3 year old, who is on le toilette, I say, "Honey, what was that sound?" He said it was his sister, who was keeping him company (I have no idea why someone would want to "go there", but whatever... maybe that's what little kids do since they don't know how to read yet?!?) Smelling danger (there's a joke in there somewhere), I went to investigate.
My hands immediately flew to cover my face. I screamed the kind of scream that you feel in your tired, stripped throat hours later.
"OH. MY. GOD. NOOOOOOOOO!!!"
Number 5 had ripped an enormous chunk of wallpaper off the wall. There were also little pieces in her hands and a few scattered about the floor. My head was numb. Quickly, I grabbed a big glue stick that the kids use for art projects and very gingerly glued all the pieces back together, mostly matching the "Waverly Country Life" toille design.

As I was in there, the guilty party was still wandering around. "Close door, Mommy?" she asked (her brother was still on the toilet, maybe she thought he needed privacy?).
"N...", I managed to get out before the door slammed in my face.

And then I heard it. Click. Click. Click. Click. She was peeling paint off the other side of the dadgum bathroom door!

addendum - oops, things went a little further downhill