At 7am on the rainy Saturday morning just gone, I suddenly felt a rather soft persistent tap on my shoulder, and heard the most beautiful softly spoken little voice whisper into my ear as I lay in bed snuggled up, with absolutely no intentions of getting out of bed just yet. In single mother style, I awoke ever so slightly, to instantly noticed that I could also hear my other two little children whispering quite thoughtfully to one another in what sounded like extremely concerned tones of voice, as my little girl continued to tap on my shoulder and whisper into my ear.
‘Mum, mum, mum,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I finally whispered back in a voice which sounded more like a dry slow croak. I slowly opened up my eyes to see in front of me a very distressed little person.
‘There’s paint everywhere,’ she announced in a loud voice, as she threw her hands to her head, and looked at me completely exasperated.
‘Whatttttt,’ I nearly choked on my voice as I jumped out of bed and yelled out, ‘Harryyyyy,’ towards my dog who left the room in a hurry.
My eyes hit the floor in an instant, and stared at the carpet which was now covered in the footprints of two different kinds of animal species. I could hear my three little adventurers suddenly divulge the story of the white paint, the window which the dog flew through to steal the cats food, the white footprints all over the laundry and bathroom flooring, the half ripped curtain, which attaches to the window connecting the kitchen and the laundry, and the story of the cat’s tail which was now covered in white paint. This was just another day in my life as the owner of a persistently naughty thirteen year old border collie rescue dog who really just does not, and probably will never stop creating havoc each and every day, somehow and somewhere.
So, what did I do? I called in Peppa Pig, grabbed my son’s ninja turtle doona and collapsed in a heap on the couch with my three little treasures. I gave out very strict instructions on how my children were not to under any circumstances walk through the white paint which still covered the laundry floor. Than I lay my head on the pillow and drifted into a half sleep, until I had the courage to face the calamity in the laundry.
However, that was merely the array of events from Saturday!! As we all returned home on Sunday from a lovely day at Kids Kingdom, the local indoor play centre, we entered our home through the back door as usual, and walked through the exceptionally clean laundry, making our way to the lounge room. My son immediately turned the television on and kicked his bright blue gumboots off. They flew high into the air, and moved ever so slightly to the right, which was when I heard the sound of glass smashing and crashing together, following the sound of a small voice saying, ‘sorry mum’.
My house and windows! Let me tell you. So yes, my son smashed two small 15cm squares of glass out of the led light window which connects to the sunroom. And, to add to our new problem, I had already broken stained glass squares out of the sunroom door, (which is next to the led light window my son smashed) when I had to break into my home last year in April after I waved goodbye to the kids and their father. As I turned around and walked through the sunroom, a massive gust of wind catapulted through the sunroom, and slammed closed the security locked lounge room door, which will in turn take one through to the rest of the house.
Why is there a lock on the door attached to the lounge room entrance? So, due to some more accidental damage to the glass, the quote I received today for 5 small pieces of glass amounted to $377.00. I was completely flabbergasted. Moral of the story? Consider residing in a home without a zillion windows.