Written by Emily
On Friday night, my husband took Noah and Chloe to a minor league hockey game. On Friday night my son came home with a free gift: a red light switch cover with wings, advertisements and the name of a hockey team decorating its lovely exterior.
On Saturday night, I entered my son’s bedroom to find this:
No big deal? It’s just a kid’s room? Let me break a few things down.
- My husband is a busy man. I put in my orders for household jobs several days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months in advance. This fancy number was installed the very next day. The baskets for the basement door–an organization strategy for our home? It’s day seven, and they’re still waiting at the bottom of the steps.
- No one, not one single person in this house likes the Capitals. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone cheers for the team playing against the Capitals. They now have become a fixture in our home. Literally.
- I handle the design. My husband and I usually see eye-to-eye, but I give him vetoing power (within reason). Mom was not even consulted on this garish decorative item.
- When the kids are sleeping, I throw away tacky free gifts from sporting events.
- I don’t prefer advertisements on my children’s clothing. I’d rather they not be walking billboards. A Dasani ad on a light switch cover? That’s not even something I thought I had to prohibit in advance. Now I know. And as a side note, water on an electrical item? This is a recipe for disaster.
- I heard my son telling my husband he wants a sports room. My daughter cheered in agreement. They’re plotting against me. That’s four out of six. I’m including the dog because she’s been waiting for me to go for quite some time.
This is a gateway drug, folks. You may see it as a light switch cover. I see it as the first step towards fatheads in the living room. In short, it’s the beginning of the end, my end.