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As you may recall from my previous blog post, our house was trying to kill us. We found out when we were kicking off our house remodel. Asbestos, lead in the windows, twins murdered in room 237 and haunting us… you know, typical new house issues.
Before. You can see our two -year-old Sebby’s artwork on the wall.
During. The offending death laminate with death glue, death nails and death pattern trying to murder death kill us.
Minus death tile. And death cabinets, walls, sink, floors, appliances and weight-bearing support beamsWAIT WHAT.
Luckily, the whole remodel was worth it. Hardwood floors throughout, new appliances (like an induction stovetop!) and cabinets, and a new, blank canvas for Seb-err, I mean, new paint.
Now I can start my new blog, Cooking With Flavor. And by flavor, I mean tequila. And by cooking with, I mean drinking. And by blog, I mean drunk.
The remodel touched the entire house. For a week, we packed up everything and left the house while the floors were refinished and stained. We didn’t unpack most things until about a week ago. Which brings us to blowing Sebby’s little toddler mind.
So we are smrt parents. When our kids find that one stuffed animal, toy or blanket that is theirs, we buy a second one. This one we secret away for emergencies. You know, that special blanket getting left at a rest stop two states ago during a road trip. That cherished car getting melted in the fireplace. That stuffed bear which got decapitated in a freak lawnmower incident. Any number of catastrophes can befall that special something every child chooses, so we, as smrt parents, bought a back-up to avert those catastrophes.
Sebby’s item of choice is a gray stuffed bunny, creatively named “BUNNY!” (Yes, it is always screamed with a big smile.) So we have an extra bunny hidden away, just in case.
Well, both bunnies were packed during the remodel. And somehow, during the remodel chaos, both bunnies got unpacked, and both bunnies ended up in the nursery.
One night I’m putting Sebby to bed and preparing to read him and his sister The Book With No Pictures. Sebby screams “BUNNY!” and clutches the furry little guy to his chest.
Then he sees another bunny on the floor.
He does a toddler double take. “Bunny?” He stares at the bunny in his hands, then looks at the identical bunny on the floor. “Bunny?” Then back to the one in his hands. Then back to the one on the floor.
Then he goes apeshit.
“TWO BUNNIES!” He screams, loud enough to wake up the neighborhood, and grabs the second bunny. He holds one in each fist, their bodies dangling by the necks, as he parades around the room triumphantly. “I have TWO BUNNIES!” He yells again, in case somebody in Spanaway didn’t hear him the first time, and holds both in a death grip to his tiny thundering heart.
Well, now you can see why we’re smrt. Somehow we have to get the second bunny away from him without him noticing. Or break down and buy two more bunnies, in case he loses one or both of the ones he’s claimed. And chances are, at some point that rascally little toddler will find the two spares we just got, suddenly have four, and we’ll have our first lesson in exponentials.
At least we’re starting him on maths early. Or on biology. Rabbits do, after all, breed like… well, rabbits.