Griffin is upstairs, in his room, screaming his head off. Thrashing is involved.
Because I won't let him scream his head off in the living room and I sent him upstairs, his hissy fit is multiplied by fifty. At least. And that's damn impressive.
The fit has something to do with Legos. Maybe Darwin broke something he made? Really, I don't give a fuck.
Rule: if you don't want anyone messing with something, PUT IT UP.
Rule: don't bitch about it if they do because you didn't put it up.
Oh my hell.
Four more fucking hours, four more fucking hours, four more fucking hours...