Curious Kids (My Turkeys) vs. Paper Shredder

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Just when you think your kids are old enough to know better, they go a pull a stunt like this to prove that they will continuously attempt to drive you batshit crazy for the rest of your life.   My apologies for the poor quality, but you get the idea of what occurred here.
paper-shredding-incident1

Here’s the story:

So yesterday, we were out running around and stopped by Staples to look at some software.  I’ve been looking at so much software online that I felt like my eyes were crossing so I wanted to look at some real-life stuff and try to make the decision on what to purchase.  I was looking at the software trying to mentally compare prices and requirements of various projects.  The turkeys were literally 7 feet away from me and I could see them over the top of the shelves.  However, I could only see them from the waist up.  This is important.

I was looking at the software for maybe 2 minutes.  2 fracking minutes.  When the turkeys saunter over to me, wrap their arms around my legs and say, “Surprise for you mommy.  We show you.”  They both had these shit eating grins on their faces and I immediately tensed up with trepidation.

“Surely, it can’t be that bad, I could see them the whole time and they were only 7 feet away. ”

Silly mommy.  Never underestimate the power of your children to make messes.

Turkeys managed to find a FULL paper shredder on a bottom shelf.  They somehow opened it and proceed to dump the contents all over the floor.

They were awfully pleased with themselves.

I wanted to nothing more than scoop one up under each arm and hightail it out of that store.  However, my inner mother (that strict bitch) made them get down and start cleaning up the mess. Thankfully, a manager wondered by at this point and tried his best to convince me that he would take care of it.  Again, part of me wanted to scream, “Yes, thank you.  See ya.”  But the inner mother said, “No, they have to learn the consequences of their actions.  Do you have a vacuum cleaner?”

Shortly, he came back with a vacuum and the turkeys and I did our best to clean up.  Of course, the confetti was everywhere and it was an arduous task.  We had done the best we could so we all said we were sorry and got the hell out of dodge.  Of course, I got to the van, strapped them in and started digging through my purse for the car key (I rarely lock my doors).  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.

Sweat was dripping and the word “irritated” doesn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling.  I unstrapped the boys and we went back to the scene of the crime and there is the key, right on the shelf next to the dastardly paper shredder.

It was then, in my hot mess glory, that I desperately wanted to take that paper shredder to a deserted field and go all office space on it.

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