Death by Toothpicks

Another story of the antics of my daughter.

You know, I just love having a curious, smart, creative three year old. It reminds me how much I love it when I walk upstairs to find that she's dumped all my toothpicks out onto the loft floor (after scaling cabinet walls to get them from the spice cabinet, of course).

After I cleaned all of them up, it was movie time. So I decided to watch a little bit with them. I set it up, went to sit down, and...

Suddenly searing pain was shooting up my hand. I didn't know what it was, until I tried to get my husband to fix it. When I pressed down on the fluffy couch armrest to show him, what came out?

Toothpicks. My couch was suddenly the Hellraiser couch. I think between me and my husband we fished out around 40 toothpicks that were painstakingly nestled and lodged in our couch. And I am the proud bearer of four puncture wounds to the left hand that hurt really really bad.

I'm glad she didn't decide to pincushion the seat, too.