The Monkey House

Scientists near Geneva recently announced they had broken the "speed of light". They did this by observing my sweet monkeys descend upon and destroy a previously clean room.

Unless children are napping, silence is always suspicious at Chez Laird. Load of squeals and maniacal laughter are also suspicious. Alternating between the two means an uprising is in the works and I should just open a beer now because I'm going to need it to handle what happens next.

An example:

There had been fighting. I intervened and the fighting stopped. But then the chasing began and the oldest four were shrieking like banshees, running laps over and over and over again through the kitchen. When the decibel level surpassed concert-status, I sent them upstairs. Ainsley generously offered up her room (a rarity so of course the trips jumped all over that), so I blah-blah-blahed the usual "if you play in Ainsley's room you have to listen to her or you'll have to leave".

Ahhh...silence in my kitchen. Silence upstairs...wait. Giggling? Laughing? Squealing? Pounding of feet? MORE squealing? More pounding of feet?

No. Please no.

I walked in my room to find this:




Folks, that's 3 loads of laundry strewn all over my room. It had been folded. Duvet and pillows thrown off my bed.

Commence beer-opening.