Last week, I set aside a whole morning to tackle Taterbug's bedroom. As a nine year old little pack rat, her room was overflowing with clothes, garbage, and wayward Christmas presents that haven't found a permanent location in our home yet. While I diligently worked, I plugged Gunny into a "Tonka Joe" construction cartoon and gave him a handful of Cheez-its, instructing him to to stay out of her room and stay glued to the video.

As I cleaned, I could feel a pair of eyeballs staring me down. I looked up to see Gunny standing in the doorway, coated with some sort of brown goo that at one point had resembled a banana. Ripe and gorgeous bananas I had carefully put up high on the counter, out of the reach of monsters - or at least, so I thought. When I asked him what he was doing, he mumbled something about "Nannas" and "Pwayin' wit Mommee's stickahs." I understood half of what he was talking about and thought I'd better investigate.

I followed him out into the living room in order to inspect what other damage had been done. It wasn't too bad - just cemented banana all over the entertainment center and a couple of blobs on the TV. All in all, not too bad for a Gunny mess. What caught my eye, however, were several empty wrappers lying on the floor. Empty wrappers that are normally found in the bathroom and not in your living room and certainly not in the possession of a three year old little boy.

Gunny again repeated, "Mommee, I wuz playin' witcha stickahs. Seee??!!!" as he gleefully pointed to the kitchen and more specifically, to the side of a cabinet. And this is what I saw (besides the messy counter):

Good..Lawd...you just can't make this stuff up. Gunny had found my stash of "stickahs" and thought they'd make a great accompaniment to my kitchen design. I'm just glad I found it before I had company over. That would have been a little hard to explain...and a little gross.