Charlotte has been all kinds of bad this morning. She's slapped me in the face twice, spit banana on the floor, followed by French Toast, followed by tossing her juice box over the shoulder onto the floor. After a series of quiet times in her room we progressed to the master bedroom to put away clothes, she on the side of the bed with our book stand. I haven't worried too much about her with books because she does not tear pages - until now.
I hear a long riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip - the cover of husband's favorite book has been destroyed. He comes out of the bathroom as I stare glumly at his torn book - a collectible, rather hard to find novel and he say's, "don't worry, it's just a book, I will teach her to respect books, besides she's irreplaceable".