The Trouble with Owning Boys

Is there such a thing as glass insurance? If so, it's probably time for the Sutherlands to buy a policy.

Six days after the back window of our minivan was broken by a rock that (conveniently) neither of boys remembering throwing, this happened:

I was talking to Traci on the phone on my way home from work. I had just asked her what was going on at home. 

"I'm cleaning the bathroom and Tate is 'helping' me," she said. 

The best part of our new house is the big tub. (When we were looking at houses, my only requirement was that it have a big tub.) The next best thing is the big shower with the fancy sprayers that I haven't figured out how to work yet. 

"Cool," I replied. "Well, I'll be home in a couple of — "

"Tate, stop doing that. Tate! I said STOP! DOING! THAT!"

CRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!

"I've got to go. Tate just slammed the shower door shut and the entire thing has completely shattered."

She wasn't exaggerating.

When I got home, the entire bathroom was covered with tiny pieces of glass.

Fantastic.

It took two days to get the guy out to measure for new glass. It took another threes week for them to come back to replace it. And, of course, it took $300 to get them to leave again.

So, in the span of less than a week, we shelled out $600 in glass repair.

But it's not all bad news.

The mystery of the broken van window has been solved! The other day I asked Tate about it again, just to see if would spill the beans.

"It was a rock," he admitted, "that fell from space."

Aliens. I knew it!

Case closed.