It seems that even books about Shakespeare’s tragic romance are doomed to suffer an unfortunate and untimely demise. I have attempted to read this book a couple times now and something always comes up and I put it aside for a later date. But this most recent event has forced the book into an early grave.
The other day while I was in the shower my children decided to become the naughtiest things in the world and have a water fight with the vegetable sprayer of the kitchen sink. Yes, really. I had no idea they could be that naughty. In the ten to fifteen minutes I out of the room they managed to soak the kitchen, family room and dining room. Even the ceiling was dripping. Not a good day, in fact, probably one of the worst of my motherhood career.
As you can see, my book, Juliet, was a victim of this naughtiness. It was sitting on the kitchen counter; drowned and bleeding. Poor thing. So it is laid to rest on my shelf, warped and crusty, a reminder to never underestimate the ability of a 2 year old and 4 year old to ruin things in record time.