Things my daughter threw into an unattended trash bag on the night of 7/27/15– an Xbox 360 controller, two perfectly good incandescent light bulbs she took out of her bathroom light fixture, a torn cover for a Wii remote, the lid to one of our water storage bottles, and a glass candy dish.
Times I have picked up the same toys and books and games and dvds that she has thrown onto the floor of the game room, nursery, living room, dining room, kitchen, and master bedroom: innumerable.
Things she allows in her own bedroom: a bed, a bare pillow, a blanket, a desk, a chair that she has broken the back off of, a bookshelf that cannot be used because she removed all the screws from it, her laundry basket that contains her dirty AND clean clothes (mixed by her), and her new green curtains hung on a shower rod.
Number of times she said “drill” yesterday once she decided she needed a cordless drill to disassemble the rest of the house: at least two hundred. Including the fifty times while we went to the shopping mall to buy candles and clothesline and soda pops.
Number of times she’s watched the new Spongebob movie dvd that she requested as one of her Christmas presents: two.
Approximate depth of the ocean that her obsession with “King of the Hill” and “Family Guy” and “The Cleveland Show” makes me want to sink the makers of those shows to while they are attached to huge boulders by titanium chains: ~7000 feet.
Time spent yesterday in scrubbing poop off her concrete floor (since she removed all the wooden plank flooring and threw it out into the hallway, piece by piece, including the underlayment): about 30 minutes.
Odds that I will survive this summer without totally losing my mind: Oh honey, that ship has sailed.
Addendum: times so far this morning I’ve had to scrub more poop off her floor: 1, so far. It promises to be a long long day with the mood she’s in.