When we arrived here a week and a half ago, my In-law’s house was sparkling clean and beautifully decorated. (Not overly so as my MIL had read that too many decorations might easily overwhelm their senses.) There were toys collected for the boys to enjoy while they were visiting. A bedroom made up with Thomas the Train bedding.
Everything was perfectly festive and inviting.
Until the boys actually stepped foot into each room.
Within days of our arrival:
The couch was pulled away from the wall so they wouldn’t climb through the cut-outs in the wall and escape into the rest of the house.
A glass topped coffee table was removed to the garage. A fancy sitting chair that proved to be quite bouncy soon followed. Then a torch style lamp that they thought was the perfect thing to knock over (after being carefully glued back together) was moved outside. (Along with anything else that was easily destroyed.)
A cabinet with glass doors was turned to face the wall.
The doors on the entertainment center were tied shut.
Things started to migrate north.
A small trunk with a lid that made a most satisfying crash was tied shut and pushed to stratigically cover a floor vent that Judah found and started pulling out.
I am kicking myself for not bringing the trampoline.
Baby gates were borrowed from neighbors and each day we get a *little* closer to having a room that is completely free of things the boys can break or ruin in their quest to satisfy their sensory needs: jumping and crashing.
There is a reason our living room at home consists of a couch, a chair, a TV on a low table and a trampoline.
Thank you Grandma and Grandpa C for rolling with the punches (and the crashes and jumping and screaming and whining…)! I hope the smiles and giggles and calls for “Super Delicious Chocolate Milk” are the things that stick in your memory the most from our visit.