Many of you had already heard the story but a picture is worth a thousand words. A week and a half ago the nesting instinct kicked in full force. I could not resist the urge to clean everything, including the obscure areas of our home. For example, the shelf above the washer and dryer, the closets, and the pantry (all places a baby would certainly go when they first come home). I decided to use a stool to aid in my endeavor to clean the pantry since bending over has been impossible for a few months now. Not even 5 minutes into my cleaning, Sean came rushing in to the sound of a screaming wife and splintering wood. The wooden stool buckled and broke beneath me...the first casualty of nesting. It's a sad day when you realize you're no longer safe sitting on small wooden furniture. Visions of Goldilocks in Baby Bear's chair flashed before my eyes. I'm now avoiding all wooden seating: stools, dining room chairs, rocking chairs, etc.The stool made the ultimate sacrifice for a clean pantry. We have given it a proper burial in the trash can. Please take a moment of silence for the little stool.
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