When you're raising wild animals

Well, all of you people who've been clamoring for a "home tour" are going to be pleased as punch about recent developments.

"Recent developments" meaning that an event occurred over the weekend that leads to you getting to see Nick and Jake's room in its "native state."

We were in the kitchen and the boys were playing upstairs when we heard sort of a loud series of unidentifiable noises, then crying. Unidentifiable because we hadn't heard noises of that sort before, but not alarming because it wasn't like Boom sounds or the sounds of flesh being ripped from bone. THOSE noises, I can readily identify, you know.

We trotted upstairs to find something ... MISSING ... from the wall.

Man down! Man down!

There used to be a curtain. And second bracket. And rod on that wall.

Jake was sitting in the floor crying. CULPRIT ALERT.

While they were playing and building forts -- innocently, of course -- somehow Jake managed to tear the rod and curtain off the wall. It then resided on the hamper.

OH. Can't see it for the school bus dominating the area? Here you go.

When one's room looks like this:

It can often be difficult to see the damage that's actually been done. You can't see the forest for the trees, so to speak.

All three of them had been in there for an hour, using every blanket, sheet and quilt at their disposal, and every corner of the room that was capable of loosely holding up the coverlets, to their advantage.

Where's Waldo Nathaniel?

GOOD GRIEF.