Is there no limit to the instruction you could give your children? If I vocalized every potential "don't do," I'd use my lifetime quota of words before mid-afternoon.
Don't pour hand sanitizer on your head.
Don't drag your mattress off your box springs and attempt to wedge it in the closet.
Don't use your hairbrush as a fork.
Like trying to guess what series of numbers would open a ten-digit combination lock, the possibilities are endless. I can't possibly envision what they might do and preclude it with a warning. They're too crafty -- changing directions and dreaming up never-seen-before schemes.
I resort to blanket statements: "Don't do anything that would hurt anyone, create excessive work for me, or otherwise get you in trouble."
You'd think that would cover it. In a logical world, that all-inclusive statement would prevent one child from stamping the baby's head with a Hello Kitty stamper, or stop a toddler in her tracks when she's about to pull all the clothes from her closet and decorate her room with hangers, or echo in the collective consciousness of the collaborating duo at the bathroom sink who are testing how many bubbles they can make by emptying a new container of hand soap, one pump at a time.
The "kid" variable negates logic. Every time.
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