I'm cleaning up after the weasels. Weasel vs. bathroom trashcan, weasel 1 , trashcan zero! Trying to sweep and the crazy little bugger keeps hopping on the broom. Stop it already, so I can clean up! No telling what he's destroying while I write.
Antti loves to dump over the trashcan, pull out the paper and then he stands there so proud, looking at me, like "See mom, look what I did"? Just beaming. Stupid weasel.
And then when he's done, he likes to push over the shampoo bottles and soap, pleased as punch. H works so hard pushing them onto the floor, as if he can't believe I've cluttered up his shelf yet again.
I do love him. I do. Just keep saying that until you believe it.