He's also a bull in a china shop.
In our nearly eight years together he has broken more of my stuff than I care to recall. I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that if I love it, thinks its cool, or if it was a rare find in a thrift store or I paid a lot of money for it, he will inadvertantly find a way to break, stain, tear, burn or otherwise mar my precious item. It's
This week he broke these two items in a matter of about 24 hours.
It appears that this condition of breaking things is genetic. I stood in the kitchen with Izzy as she proudly held this sign in her hands, spelling out the word and watched it crumble in her hands.
::puts cool stuff on a higher shelf::