Give me 60 seconds without supervision and I will make a beeline from my upstairs bedroom to the kitchen. I'll find the box of Rice Crispies and decorate the floor.
I'll spill some more on the chair that I've managed to slide from the kitchen table to the kitchen island without anyone hearing.
Then, from my perch on the chair, I'll pour Rice Crispies into the freshly-cut flowers that my mother had sitting on the island, just like I'm feeding fish. Very hungry fish.
Don't let the innocent thumb sucking lull you to complacency. It's a ruse.
Just remember one thing: I am Kerrington, master of destruction.