After hyperventilating
at the apocalyptic mess
in girlchild's room, the floor
laden with crafts half-
done and clothes half-
worn we together
resolved on a plan for a tidier space.
Our reconnaissance mission
to a store called Boomerangs
for the elusive desk
with drawers.
We purchased a solid oak
grand dame of drawers,
loaded with the help of brawny workers, so kind.
On our way home, boychild asked
if he could watch YouTubes on
"How to pick a lock," since
he said that might be useful in his future.
Back home
Husband paused, no words
reminded me, third floor 
aloft, winding narrow stairwells
this monster 
bedroom imposter must be returned.

Boomeranging to Boomerangs I found her majesty had no match, elected instead to accept store credit and a sequined hooded sweatshirt from Justice, the balance of justice here lacking as it will be if boychild ever tries to pick a lock to his sister's room which may well remain apocalyptic until the very end.