I have to say that I can generally handle the noise and racket of my daughter, however today---well recently Lennon has found an object in our home that elicits a sound that makes me want to simultaneously punch a baby, drill my brain and rip my ears from my head. At first this noise was something I thought I could handle like all the other noises by focusing on my happy place and pretending that it isn't there. But oh no, this noise requires the meditative-like qualities only yogis possess. The noise in question: her Ikea easel being pushed, dragged, pulled, slid and jerked across our wood floor.
I have begun to think that this is Lennon's way of slowly torturing her mother. I have never hated Ikea more.
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