PGirl Junior called for me to come upstairs last night. Now, I'd been mentally preparing myself to watch two hours of the season premiere of "24" and was prepared for all manner of torture, explosions and other senseless violence (Jack delivered, too, by biting a man's throat out. Yes. He.Bit.It.Out. Lost Boy indeed!). Anyway, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I entered her room.
The ladybug bean bag's contents were off-limits to my daughter and son. They had been for some time. PGirl has encountered the bean bag injured before, but never so grievously. This was likely going to result in a funeral for our comfy furniture friend.
Our daughter had obviously called me up, because the original PGirl would have had a considerably more animated and angry response than me. I took it in stride. But then I actually looked at the culprit.
I had to stifle a laugh. PGirl came upstairs to look. I excused myself to use the potty, looking for relief from the oncoming storm. My wife was surprisingly calm, raising her voice over the vacuum cleaner motor to tell the kids to stop tracking bean bag guts around the house.
PGirl Jr. wasn't very remorseful. Please note the lint brush in her hands. I'm pretty sure she was more concerned with cleaning her clothes than with hiding the crime. My little attempted murderess would likely follow Martha Stewart's prison example.
In unrelated news, the kids are home with me today and I actually planned an activity with them. We made some chocolate chip cookies today. Enjoy the pics...