On the distractibility of husbands

So, the sun has been shining for a good week, the weather is warm and balmy and we have an entire house to pack up ready for our imminent move. Suddenly I notice that Legoman has been absent from the packing chaos for some time and is nowhere to be found. Then over the hum of the washing machine, I pause with the packing tape dispenser mid roll and hear the sound of thudding from the back deck. And yes, the house does appear to be shaking somewhat. It appears that Legoman could restrain himself no longer and he and Roboboy have started demolishing our deck. Two weeks before we move out.

Within the hour the Menace brothers arrive armed with hammers and crowbars and expressions of evil boy glee on their faces. They have been waiting for this day for months and answered the call of duty in record speed. They mate who was having a sleepover was dragged over as well, nothing better than random children in my yard wielding deadly weapons, with uncertain vaccination status and of course, parents who are lawyers. Needless to say, I was on high alert for the next few hours. Not to mention my valid concern that I would hang out a load of washing and discover that the entire back wall of my house had been ripped off with over enthusiastic gusto.

So after a few clear rules as to what could be ripped off and what needed to be left intact until after we move out, instructions on how to deal with all those rusty nails and the biggest Menace on Liongirl duty, I retreated to pack some boxes.

The boys (and men) were like pigs in mud. See that happy face.

Best of all we were able to take most of the wood to a mates place who is going to reuse it for his chook run. And that meant lots of rides in the garden wagon.

Now they are all excitedly plotting when they can pull the rest of it down. Me, I'm just packing up the entire house, you know, the work that actually needs to be done now, vs the fun but completely unnecessary jobs.  Men. Anyone else have a distractible husband?