Um, I thought forts were seasonal. It's seventy degrees and sticky humid, yet the kids have dragged every Sherpa blanket downstairs (drink) and pitched tent on the couch. Again. Not only that, but they incorporated stacks of books. I think they are supposed to act as anchors to secure the edges of the blankets, but I'm a little lost on the exact purpose of them. What I am, however, is hopping mad. (Drink)
Not too long ago, I did a little rearranging in the twins' bedroom. Their dresser was in the closet (drink) which wasn't a huge issue in the winter when I didn't need to hang much, but come summer frock season, I needed the space. So I moved the bookshelf out of their room to a little nook down the hall, making room for the dresser. Actually (drink) I made James do the heavy lifting. I took the opportunity to take all the books out of the bookshelf, wipe it down, and line them back up in an orderly fashion. Board books together in descending order of height, tall hardbacks arranged similarly on the bottom shelf, and paperbacks sorted by size, spines out, thank you very much. It was a stupid exercise because I knew they would all get jumbled back to their chaotic state within days, but it just felt right. Plus every time I walked past the bookshelf, I felt a sense of accomplishment which is very rare these (drink) days.
So when I discovered that they had loaded handfuls of books into a large bin and dragged it downstairs to incorporate into a bloody fort, I damn near lost it. It didn't help (drink) that I had spent the morning on a cleaning spree and had absolutely nothing to show for it. They swore they would clean it all up without backlash later, but I know exactly how that will play out. One of them won't pull their weight and a massive fight will break out with tattling, name calling, maybe even throwing. The icing on the cake is that just ten minutes after construction was complete, the foreman abandoned ship and selected one of the few seats on the couch that was not incorporated into the fort. WTF? "Look James," I seethed, "he's not even USING it." I was livid. James was amused.
My point is - there (drink) are seven days of school remaining. Summer is upon us. Camps, at least for our kids, aren't happening. So while I'm looking forward to celebrating my retirement as a teacher, I worry about my transition to camp counselor, especially if forts work their way into the itinerary. And they will - they're obsessed with them. You know the space I cleared in the closet when I (James) moved the dresser? Guess what's there now? Fortress. That's what they called it. Same thing. Feminizing the title doesn't make it any more tolerable.
I figure I have a few (drink) options - relocate blankets to the attic for the summer thereby eliminating the key component of their dwellings, ban forts entirely and suffer the tears and retaliation that will surely ensue, or come up with a big fat lie about a new trend in which snakes are infesting forts. Maybe a combo (drink) of all three will seal the deal. Something has to give because I can no longer deal with them, I'm sick of writing about them, and I'm probably losing readers who can no longer stomach another post whereby Jill bitches about forts. Sorry guys. It's just the way the day panned out. We're all suffering. (Drink)