The Short One Vs. the Tent

So, The Short One is my four year old son who is craaaazy - he makes my life have meaning. I love him more than life itself...but...he...is...insane...in a good way. Most of the time. My husband did say a few weeks ago that one of them needed medication for them to both keep from going crazy. I figure they're both a little crazy already, so we'll all be okay. It has been FREEZING cold here in Alabama and it looks like it's going to stay that way for the next week or so (please let it snow, please let it snow, please let it snow). Yesterday, because I'm "a good mommy", most of the time, I decided to put up the 8 foot tall teepee tent The Short One received from Santa. It was freezing outside. It was colder than freezing outside. I opened the garage, drug the tent from inside the garage, around the side of house, through the gate, all the while keeping the 140 lb beast of a dog, no, I'm not exaggerating, she really weighs 140lb...AWAY from the tent and INSIDE the gate. I stepped in dog poo, changed shoes, worked on the tent, went inside to get gloves so I could feel my fingers, all the while as The Short One is bouncing up and down with glee. I set up the tent, put all gazillion parts together, got it standing...somehow...although I'm 5'4" and it's 8', stake it into the ground, bring in blankets, close the crawl space and door to keep the cold out and...all the sudden...I hear a loud warrior cry. I look up to see The Short One blasting through the window of the tent as the tent that Santa paid $100 for rips from one side...to the other. I wanted to sit down and cry...but I didn't...only because I feared the tears freezing on my face and transforming me into a human icicle. And so goes life...the life I love...