"The Dangerous Book for Boys" -- Who needs a book?

In the past two months, Gary has:

poured petroleum distillate lubricant all over himself and Sage(poison),

taken a hack saw to Samuel’s big inflatable ride-in ball,

sprinkled ant killer all over the sidewalk, himself and Sage(poison),

carved two holes in the kitchen wall with a screwdriver,

hammered blue pock marks over a large section of our recently refinished kitchen table with an ink pen,

tagged the lawnmower, Phillip, the garden shed, and the patio with pink paint(as you know),

was caught mid-swing on the roof of Chad's pick-up with hammer,

poured gasoline all over the garden shed,

poured gasoline all over the shop,

built a 10" fire ring out of gravel, filled it with sticks and talked Grandpa out of a lighter(Grandpa thought it didn't work. But it did.),

Sprayed down my bathroom with hairspray,

sprayed 40% deet Off (poison) all over the inside of the cab of Uncle Paul's pick-up, which bubbled the leather and stained the instrument pannel,

and yesterday, he threw this 1/8th of an inch thick, flat, yet sharp-edged end of a trampoline spring...

...through this. Samuel's hand.

Ow. This, at least, was an accident.

It seems every day we're looking at our home with new eyes, as "baby-proof" is not "Gary-proof." In his hands, everyday items become instruments of destruction, and things that are already instruments of destruction, are never out of reach of a 3-year-old on a mission. Constant supervision is the only thing that helps, but he made his chocolate mess today in under five minutes. After these incidents, Gary often says, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." And he doesn't. He thinks of something new. I guess I need to learn to think like a 3-year-old and think of them first!