I'm tired. It's late, and I'm likely to stay up an hour reading Theodore Rex anyway, so I'll make this quick.
This happened today. I felt the opposite of grateful.
I wasn't mad at the one-year-old culprit (per se), but the older brother who left a Sharpie within #3's reach. I love my kindle so much and, praised be the Lord, I was able to save it by gently but firmly rubbing it with a pencil eraser. You're welcome! I still get mad when looking at it, but it's usable and I'm not tearing into a 5-year-old's wallet to replace it.
Also notable, we chose a mover and nailed down a date: one week from tomorrow. Zoikes! I feel like packing is a painstaking and torturous riddle, but it's going pretty well. As well as can be expected with three boys under five in tow, anyway.