The Day Noah Picked My Car Apart

As I have mentioned before, Noah has this strange little picking tick. If there is a string, he will find it. If there is a loose thread, he will pull it. We have socks with holes in the toes, socks missing their tops, pajama pants with open legs, and more clothing casualties than I care to admit. It has been frustrating, yes, but at least those were his clothes. I could patch, replace, or switch to Noah-resistant materials like jeans or Under Armour and move on.

But today? Today I flipped my lid.

Two years ago, I bought my car. It is our family car: used for work, vacations, and visits to see family. Within six months, Noah had already “personalized” it. He somehow pulled out one of the middle-row headrests and jammed it in backwards. The dealership said they would have to take the seat apart to fix it, which sounded both expensive and unnecessary, so we left it. That became “Noah’s seat.”

A few months later, he evened the score and did the same thing to the other headrest. Now both are permanently facing the wrong way, and unless I want to spend over $1,000, that is how they will stay. Needless to say, everyone fights over who has to sit beside Noah on long trips.

Fast forward to this morning. I dropped off Ziva at school and pulled back into the driveway to wait for the bus. I was sitting there, minding my business, when Noah decided to toss something at me. Exhibit A. At first, I thought it was paper. It was not paper. It was a piece of my car.

I let out a scream that could have cracked glass. My child had officially reached a new level of destruction. His picking habit has rubbed my very last nerve raw.

We have tried gloves. We have tried giving him something else to pick. Clearly, none of it has worked. So here I am, defeated and driving a car that is slowly being dismantled by a boy with magical fingers and zero remorse.

Any suggestions before I lose what is left of my sanity?

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