So, if one entry works, why not just copy it again the next night? That’s what this looks like, and that’s what a lot of our evenings look like. Built a great garage last night? Let’s build an even bigger one tonight. Suffered severe trauma over late night snippy introduction to new bed book limit and later retaliated to mother in sleep with suggestive title cradling last night? Let’s willingly abide by said rule in the presence of said parent, all the while secretly plotting to break every other bedtime rule after the lights go out tonight.
The problem, discussed in great detail before bedtime:
Too many books at the end of the bed result in teetering piles of slick-wrapped library books that go (very loud) bump in the night.
The solution, also discussed in great detail before bedtime:
Five books, “because I’m going to be five on my next birthday”, only. Oh yeah, plus the three we just read together. Eight.
So, later I go upstairs and find this – this Frank Lloyd Wright, Falling Water-inspired, cantilevered nightmare of a stack. I mean, seriously. The Bibles? Both of them? It’s like she carefully crafted the most precarious combination of books she could find in her room, and then hung them out over the absolute edge of the mattress, with the slickest ones at the base.
She probably placed her hair over her face too, just to hide the little smirk.
So, no more painting tonight. I just couldn’t bring myself to open up that can of white paint again, and besides, my evenings are now spent photo documenting my child’s cunning ways.
As you can see, there are still no other colors, but I promise you, color is coming.
Plus, I just needed this jolt of color in all the white.