You know you have kids when you go into their bathroom to clean because Grandma’s coming over for the weekend and find this kind of shit: an Angelina Ballerina playing card smeared with toothpaste and shoved under the baseboard behind the toilet.

Now, I can’t really point fingers (although I showed it to her and asked her not to do it again) because when I was a kid I distinctly remember conducting similar messy and I’m sure infuriating science experiments.  I took this one calmly because I figure it’s karmic retribution for the time I froze a banana when I was 7 and threw it against the wall of our living room to see what would happen (testing the properties of matter).  Predictably, it made a large hole in the drywall which I blamed on my teenage, perpetually pissed-off brother; I got away with it then so I have to pay for it now.  I know one of my husband’s childhood science experiments was in physics–specifically gravity and trajectories: He threw a rock up in the air and then moved to watch it come down–it came down on his head, creating a huge dent that’s still there today.

What I am NOT looking forward to, is the universal justice for the time when I was a teenager and two friends and I drove a Ford Bronco onto a very large swath of lawn in the front yard of the house of a boy who had jilted my friend (the driver).  We put the car in neutral, hit the gas, and left a 50 foot, double furrow in the turf.

I know I’m going to pay for that one eventually.