holy crap

Stickers and markers and toys oh my. My house looks like a container ship destined for toysrus blew up in it. Or like a 2 year old was let loose on a rampage. Oh wait that's what happened. I haven't reached my breaking point yet or there would be serious consequences for Bubba-Licious. Instead I just have moments of panic and then minutes of cleaning. The Gran swears that she was able to get my precious 2 year old self to only take one toy at a time out of the playroom. And that if I, in all of my preciousness would dare to try to bring even 1 more toy into the main house she only had to look at me, with a stern yet loving glance and I would toddle my precious behind right back ino the playroom. I've decided that either boys are harder to raise than girls or she was smoking some really good weed.