Pet-Peeves

I had a bunch of pet-peeves growing up that made me literally sick to my stomach (chewing noises, gum smacking, soup slurping, the sound of milk dropping off a cereal spoon back into the bowl, and so on) but apparently these have recently all (well not all) been replaced with new toddler induced pet-peeves.

What on earth is so fun about throwing, and I mean high speed whirlwind hurling across the room throwing, freshly folded clean clothes?! Is is really that gratifying to throw socks on the dresser, underwear on the floor, and shirts on the doorknobs? And as if that's not bad enough, when the laundry tornado isn't in full swing, the jumping onto piles of crisply folded towels commences.

Rarely do I ever get a load washed, dried, folded and put away without at least one of the steps having to be repeated. Yesterday I walked into the laundry room and found Bo shoving the used-to-be folded clothes back into the wet washer. Thanks, Bo, but THOSE WERE ALREADY CLEAN!!!!

Then there's the cleaning off of coffee tables, dressers, counters, and night stands. And by "cleaning", I mean forcefully bulldozing anything and everything out of the way and on to the floor. And by "anything and everything" I mean anything and everything. Trucks, remote controls, mail, magazines, phones, sippy cups, money, books. You name it and it has probably been tossed across our living room at one time or another. And if by some chance it hasn't been, I'm sure it's because we just don't own one.

This morning I added book throwing to my list. Yes, book throwing. While I was nursing Sam on the couch, Bo decided it would be fun to pull books off our book shelf and throw them across the room. Now these aren't little kid books, mind you, these are huge hard covered beasts of books and I don't know about you, but I sure don't want to get hit upside the head by American Soldier by General Tommy Franks (590 page memoir) which at one point landed on the pillow right next to me.

I yanked Sam off (sorry Sam), laid him on the couch, and dragged Bo to Time-Out. I had had enough, but Sam had not, so I took advantage of the temporary cease fire and finished nursing him in quiet.

Shit, I may need to start wearing a hard-hat and cevlar in my own house if this keeps up, but then again I would probably just get hit by it during one of the laundry tornados.