My wife loves kids. She lives for her kids. Every decision in her life is motivated by how it will affect her kids.
We had three kids early in our marriage, one every two years, but then we had to give it a rest. However, she just wasn't ready to say she was done. Finally, eight years after our last child was born, the Little Guy came along, and my wife was over the moon with happiness.
It's funny, though, because things are different than they were with the other kids. We've had rambunctious, and sometimes out-of-control kids in the past. But back then, we were in a different place in life. Now were in that place where you do something like buy a couch, and can count on it to be nice and last for a long time...except we can't.
We can't, because something like this might happen:
Yeah, Little got a hold of a black sharpie, and thought it might be a fun to trace his hand...on the couch. He knows better, but that doesn't always matter to a four year old.
In the end, it probably doesn't matter much. The couch was actually nearing the end of its life, and was in need of replacement. So, he didn't really cause a problem...but do we dare replace the couch? Will he do it again? There's just no saying, because he's a little guy, and their thought processes don't always coincide with reality or good sense.
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