It started simply enough when my son, Jake, announced the other day that he had outgrown the sports themed decorations in his room and wanted to paint it a different color. OK, I thought, take down the border, wash the walls, new can of paint...40 bucks. "Sure Jake!" I said magnanimously, "Let's do it." And then I started hearing a faint ***click click click click**** off in the distance. I had no idea what it was and it didn't concern me in the least. I was young and foolish.
Jake started putting things in boxes and moving them out of his room. He added to our perennial 'give away' boxes the things that he didn't want anymore and stored the rest in the screened room. I came to his room to see the progress when he announced that he wanted to soak tennis balls in paint and 'splatter' his room.
"Well that's not gonna happen Bud. Plan B?"
"I could throw paint from brushes."
"Plan C?"
We were still working out the details of the paint job when I heard it again. Kristiana came in to measure his bed. Apparently ***click click click*** she now wants to re-do her room but doesn't like the loft bed that she has. Jake wants to put her loft bed into his room and she will take his bed into hers.
"When did furniture moving come into this?" I asked helplessly. ***click***
Then ***click click click*** Jake announced that he wanted the loft to be not quite so lofty and it should be moved down about 8 inches.
"Jake..." ***click*** "There aren't holes to make the bed eight inches lower Pal."
"I know. But you can do it Dad." ***click click***
As we were moving things out and around I went into the front room and asked Sylvia, "Were you considering the whole splatter paint idea? Were you thinking that we would paint the ceiling too?"
"It is what he wants to do." And then she looked up, ***click*** you know we haven't painted in here since we moved in, ***click click*** we should freshen up.
"Hey! Stop looking up! This room isn't even connected! Forget I asked. How bout those Bears? They gonna go all the way this year? And what is with all the clicking!? Does no one else hear that?!"
I decided to retreat to Jake's room to check on the progress. By this time I felt like the little Dutch boy with his finger on the leaky dam, except in my story there are about eight holes. One of them is spraying my face and another is making me have to tell every snickering villager who walks by, "No really, I didn't wet myself. It's the leaky dam. Really."
So now we have two rooms being completely emptied and re-done, Sylvia is eyeballing the front room's color scheme, and I am thinking, "One coat of paint would have been a half day job. Where did I go wrong? And will someone please stop that clicking!"
Amid all the hubbub of people moving things around, patching holes, and envisioning layouts, Sylvia came in and said, "You know," ***click click*** "that border came down a lot more easily than I expected." ***click*** "The border in the bathroom is starting to peel up at the edges. I think we should find something new for in there." ***CLICK***
By now, of course, I have finally figured out that the clicking is an endless line of dominoes, gradually increasing in size, all set in motion by one simple comment about wanting to paint one room. I should have expected it. I have been tricked by this before. I remember the new bath mats that turned into re-carpeting the house. I also remember, all too well, the time that Sylvia got ten free rolls of leftover sod from someone who was putting in a lawn down the street. That one cost me a month and a half of work, a new fence, a bobcat and dump truck rental, two pallets of construction blocks, and about twenty five hundred dollars! Good times! ***click*** (but the yard does look good)
I think I will be OK. I have been dealing with falling dominoes for decades. I am just hoping that the last domino isn't set to fall on me! Did I mention that Kristiana wants me to paint pink and black zebra stripes on her walls?
**CLICK!**
Jake started putting things in boxes and moving them out of his room. He added to our perennial 'give away' boxes the things that he didn't want anymore and stored the rest in the screened room. I came to his room to see the progress when he announced that he wanted to soak tennis balls in paint and 'splatter' his room.
"Well that's not gonna happen Bud. Plan B?"
"I could throw paint from brushes."
"Plan C?"
We were still working out the details of the paint job when I heard it again. Kristiana came in to measure his bed. Apparently ***click click click*** she now wants to re-do her room but doesn't like the loft bed that she has. Jake wants to put her loft bed into his room and she will take his bed into hers.
"When did furniture moving come into this?" I asked helplessly. ***click***
Then ***click click click*** Jake announced that he wanted the loft to be not quite so lofty and it should be moved down about 8 inches.
"Jake..." ***click*** "There aren't holes to make the bed eight inches lower Pal."
"I know. But you can do it Dad." ***click click***
As we were moving things out and around I went into the front room and asked Sylvia, "Were you considering the whole splatter paint idea? Were you thinking that we would paint the ceiling too?"
"It is what he wants to do." And then she looked up, ***click*** you know we haven't painted in here since we moved in, ***click click*** we should freshen up.
"Hey! Stop looking up! This room isn't even connected! Forget I asked. How bout those Bears? They gonna go all the way this year? And what is with all the clicking!? Does no one else hear that?!"
I decided to retreat to Jake's room to check on the progress. By this time I felt like the little Dutch boy with his finger on the leaky dam, except in my story there are about eight holes. One of them is spraying my face and another is making me have to tell every snickering villager who walks by, "No really, I didn't wet myself. It's the leaky dam. Really."
So now we have two rooms being completely emptied and re-done, Sylvia is eyeballing the front room's color scheme, and I am thinking, "One coat of paint would have been a half day job. Where did I go wrong? And will someone please stop that clicking!"
Amid all the hubbub of people moving things around, patching holes, and envisioning layouts, Sylvia came in and said, "You know," ***click click*** "that border came down a lot more easily than I expected." ***click*** "The border in the bathroom is starting to peel up at the edges. I think we should find something new for in there." ***CLICK***
By now, of course, I have finally figured out that the clicking is an endless line of dominoes, gradually increasing in size, all set in motion by one simple comment about wanting to paint one room. I should have expected it. I have been tricked by this before. I remember the new bath mats that turned into re-carpeting the house. I also remember, all too well, the time that Sylvia got ten free rolls of leftover sod from someone who was putting in a lawn down the street. That one cost me a month and a half of work, a new fence, a bobcat and dump truck rental, two pallets of construction blocks, and about twenty five hundred dollars! Good times! ***click*** (but the yard does look good)
I think I will be OK. I have been dealing with falling dominoes for decades. I am just hoping that the last domino isn't set to fall on me! Did I mention that Kristiana wants me to paint pink and black zebra stripes on her walls?
**CLICK!**
I realize that it is terribly sad to be the first comment on your own blog...but Sylvia just said, "Click click click...The other bathroom needs painting too...after we take down the old wallpaper!"
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