We had cake and ice cream for Matthew's birthday celebration Monday night. (Rachel hand-decorated the cake; it was very well done.) We put the left-over cake on the counter, covered with plastic wrap.
Tuesday morning, after being harassed as usual for a couple hours by the savage peanut, I'm getting dressed for work when Rachel, still in bed, says, "It's too quiet. You'd better go see what he's up to."
What he was up to was standing on the open dishwasher door, stabbing at the cake with knife and spatula (liberated from the dishwasher). He'd pretty much destroyed it. We'd had a dishwasher lock but it broke a couple weeks ago; we'd been trying to teach him to stay out of the dishwasher even though it wasn't physically impossible to open anymore.
Rachel got a new lock Tuesday afternoon.
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