Once upon a time, my boys had a really cute bedroom filled with toys, books, and adorable stuffed animals. As soon as these two beasts could hold their own floppy necks up, the end was near. They were scoping out the territory. They were planning their path of destruction. The toys quickly became weapons, projectiles, and spare parts for their game of war. The books lost their beautiful, glossy pages; their carefully crafted words no longer carrying any meaning. They were torn into shreds and used as baby spit balls, slip and slides on the hardwood floors, and a nice place to pee. The stuffed animals were torn at the seams and the stuffing was strewn about to make their room look like a winter wonderland. As I caught on to their destructive methods, I began removing things from their room. For the past year or so, they had a bureau (which was very securely bolted to the wall), a carpet, and two toddler beds. Any toys they had were literally stowed away in their closet under lock and key. They were allowed to play with them while being supervised, but aside from that, we limited toys to downstairs and Taylor’s room since we can trust her and she isn’t 90% demon.

This past weekend, the boys were gifted with a really cute grill set, complete with all the food accessories necessary for the cookout of little boys’ dreams. They loved it from the moment they saw the box, and it’s virtually impossible to get them away from it. They would sleep with pretend cheddar cheese slices and hunks of meat grasped firmly in their little hands if I would let them. They carry them in the car with us to pick up Taylor from school.

I had to reconfigure their tiny room because they were doing toddler ninja moves to pull down their shade by jumping off of the side of their beds. They loved the new set up right away, and instantly figured out how to make a slide along the center of their beds. I kind of felt bad that this is what they were doing to have fun, so I decided we would try to add some things back into their room and see how they handled it. Spoiler alert: they didn’t handle it well. They were so excited to see the grill in their room and nicely played for about an hour. When bedtime came along, we cleaned up, tucked everyone in, and left the room. I heard giggles and footsteps throughout the room, but I wasn’t too surprised. I knew they’d get out of bed and play for a while, and I was okay with that. What I was not okay with, was wooden food flying though the air. They threw hot dogs against the wall, pieces of steak at the door, and corn on the cob at the monitor. There was plastic ketchup and mustard thrown at their closet, and hamburger buns tossed at the window. I quickly went in, reprimanded them, made them clean the mess and sent them back to bed. Not even two minutes later, they were doing it again. This time, the noises coming from their room were much louder, and accompanied by deep belly laughs. I opened the door, and as I did, these juvenile delinquents each had a grip on the grill (it’s very light plastic) and they threw it at me. Yes, at me. They tossed it as I was walking in the door, and then ran into their beds as if that was going to save them. They are now back to a jail cell, bare bones style room and I don’t feel bad about it. I am at a loss with these two and can only laugh about it now since I’ve properly caffeinated myself, and everyone is asleep. What did I get myself into?