The story of the door slammer

What seems like a zillion years ago, although it was actually around this time five years ago, is where our story begins.

A certain little girl, known here as Morgan used to throw the most magnificent tantrums. If there was an Academy Award for tantrums, this child would have a house full of them. At some point, she, upon being put on her bed, stared slamming the door over and over again. This bugged her mother and father endlessly. One day, the mother made the mistake of asking her teeny tiny crazy ball of joy why she slammed the door so much. You do it, was the childs answer.

Oh. Yeah. Sheet.

Of course the mother had to explain to the father what the kid said. There was then a three slam rule made up on the spot. It went for everyone in the family, because the dad claimed that more than three slams of a door gave him migraines.

The rule was as follows: in a fit of um anger or whatever, said door may be slammed three and only three times. If said door is slammed more than that, the door will be removed from the frame, by the father, for as many days, as their was extra slams.

I'd like to tell you this ends well. That no one ever forgot this rule. But I'd be lying through my teeth. My door has gone missing more than one in the last five years. When he takes mine off, I have no idea where he takes it too. I've never been able to find the dam thing.

Somehow the big child and I have the same problem, although through the years we have gotten better about it. (I prefer to throw coffee mugs. Kidding. Sorta.)

Yesterday the middle child took up the reigns. I think she feels that since she is in the last month of being four, she must take full advantage of the four-ness, before it is gone. Also, it pains her that the boy is no longer a lump. Now he is everywhere and yeah, she has brother issues. The tantruming in public, being forced to nap, slamming door reigns. She did manage to only slam it three times in the afternoon.

However last night, at some point, she got pissed off at her father and got sent to bed. Then the door slamming started. Twelve times that door was slammed. Her father is a patient man, more patient than me. He waited until she calmed down and then he went upstairs and removed the door. On the wall next to it, he placed a sign, no door until this day. Which, in case you were wondering is nine days from today.

The big child was PISSED off, since the two girl children share a bedroom. I looked at her and laughed. Come on now, pot, kettle? Ringing any bells? Somehow, I do believe the middle child won't take five years to figure out this rule.

So that's my story of the day. Beware of the three door slamming rule.