If there was ever a competition between Savannah and a drug-fueled rock star as to who could destroy a room faster, my kid would win hands down.
Being a typical 7-year-old, she’s a walking pig pen, leaving in her wake shoes, coats, toys, books, art projects, all of which I’m constantly reminding her to pick up and put away.
Added to the heap is the gum and candy wrappers. Long ago I learned never give a 2nd grader gum and not expect to later find a blob on the kitchen floor or, as I did the last week, stuck to the counter, where she temporarily placed it while she ate dinner.
Still, when confronted about these messes, she’ll feign innocence” as the following conversation illustrates:
“Who made this mess?” I recently asked Savannah. The living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
“I don’t know. Not me.”
“Well, there’s two people in this apartment and I didn’t make it.”
“Well, I didn’t MAKE it,” she says with Drama Queen exaggeration.
“Ok, so what you’re saying is last night while we were asleep, someone broke into our apartment, made a big mess and then just left? They didn’t want to take anything. They just wanted to make a mess.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”