When it’s ajar!

I used to die laughing at that joke as a kid. (I admit, I still do a little.)

Oh and get this, I used to think the song from Evita was High Flying A Door.

And I love the band but I admit I was surprised there was a brand new website being developed. Didn’t Jim Morrison die in 1971 and the band dissolve in 1972?

So, doors. Yup. I’m thinking about doors.

Why?

Well, for months now, my boys have been getting more physical with each other. There’s been more pushing and shoving. Nothing drastic.

Yet.

But one of the things that bugs me the most is when they slam their bedroom doors.

I understand the motivation. They want privacy. They want to get away from their tormentor. They vant to be alone.

But I worry about someone getting hurt. And (not that this will make me sound like a nice person, but…) it just plain drives me crazy. I despise the sound of it. And it irks me. Big time.

So a few weeks ago, I told them that if they slammed their doors, I’d take the doors off.

Oh wimpy me. I did nothing.

Last night, two of them slammed and there was a lot of screaming. (I know, hard to believe.)

Andrew and I went up there with a hammer and screwdriver and removed the offending doors.

Reactions?

One son asked for how long. Oh, that’s okay.

The other son wailed. And wailed and wailed and wailed. “How could you do this to me? This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I have no privacy. This is just terrible.”

I reminded him that I had told him the consequences in advance.

“But I never thought you really would,” he said.

Well, he was wrong. And pissed. And I think he’ll think twice before he slams that door again.

That is, if we ever put it back up.