The Pliers and The Box

My children helped me out with a project this morning.  As we were finishing up, my husband came downstairs with an empty air filter box from the attic.   As he set it down, my son got up to claim it.   The room we were in is where I have all my craft supplies and my son had an idea for that box.   He had plans for it.   And those plans involved pliers…

He went over to the drawer where I keep my jewelry making tools, opened it up and hopefully asked if he could use the pliers.   I told him he couldn’t use those, but if he opened the bottom drawer, he could use any of those.   He grabbed as many pliers as he could and got to work on the box.

They weren’t all pliers exactly.  Some were round-nose or flat-nose or bent-nose pliers, but some were for specific things like making jump rings or opening split ring or performing crimps.   But that mattered not, because each of those tools could be used in some way to maim that innocent cardboard box.

My daughter got involved and the pliers started to be referred to by name, “the grabbers” or “the chewers” or “the punchers.”   They made all kinds of holes in the box together for the next half-hour.

Then it was time for lunch.  I’m going to fast-forward here to the part where my son and daughter continued to use the word, “poopie” in inappropriate and highly-repetitive ways, even with harsh warnings from my husband and me.   We got home and there was more trouble, resulting in my son being sent outside for poor behavior.   My son then made it worse on himself not once, but twice, with the end result in the two of them losing the privilege of going to their friend’s play date that afternoon.

My son was very, very upset.   I was glad he was upset because that meant he understood it was serious and he was unhappy at the consequence.   I texted our friend to tell her we wouldn’t make it.  She said she understood, but if the problem was with only one of the children, to please come on over if we wanted to.   So I decided to take my daughter, who is very good friends with Neel.  

My daughter and I had a good time and I had the best artichoke vegetarian pizza I’ve ever had.   When we came home over three-hours later, I called my husband who said it had been a good thing to have the children split up.   We both agreed sometimes separate experiences with our children is a good thing to have.

What was my son doing when we got home?  He was in the garage playing with that box, working on it with some pliers and a hammer.   That poor box…

The Big Boy Update:  We were coming out of the post office this afternoon when my son looked around and said, “I see a lot of pine trees…so we’re in Pinehurst.”  (My in-laws live in Pinehurst.)

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Egg Peeler.  My daughter helped me peel eggs this morning.  I knew she had done this at school, but I’d never see it personally.   I also heard (from her) that she didn’t like eggs.   Not only did she peel all six, she happily ate one when she was finished.

Fitness Update:  I ran a quick three miles after dinner tonight.