When one thinks that one can enjoy a few minutes of a quiet morning because the wee one is sleeping soundly, one might do well to make a pass through the house and ensure that all bathroom doors are childproofed and closed. That way, one would not soon discover that some children wake up silently, spy open bathroom doors through which they stealthily enter, and proceed to find their daddy’s mega hold hair gel, the kind that comes in pint-sized containers, and squeeze it out, here, there, everywhere. No, one would not find a gel saturated towel stuffed in the toilet, nor discover gel all over the Spiderman bed sheet that the child had dragged in to the bathroom to join the party. One would not find gel smeared all over the side of the bathtub, the floor (the carpeted part), the sink, the counter, and the cupboards. One would not stumble across a very young man, embalmed, as it were, from head to toe in a good thick layer of the sticky stuff.
A more vigilant mother might take heed from events of only one day prior, in which a particular expanse of silence produced a fine coating of bubble slime all over the heirloom cedar chest, the floor (again, the carpeted part), and the child. Yes, when a young one boasts his motor skills and shows how proficient he is at opening things with twist-top lids, messy results can occur. Of course, being the somewhat tidy and organized mother that I am, I keep all the bubble-blowing paraphernalia together. So of course he emptied every container of bubble liquid. Mind you, it doesn’t take long to drag (or quietly pick up and move) a foot stool to the counter, step up, retrieve the bubbles, take the loot to a fun kid-sized surface like the cedar chest, twist open the tops, and dump out the contents. Glug glug glug glug. Glug. Glug glug. What fun!
Imagine the delight at squeezing the contents of a full bottle of talcum powder into little mountains all over the living room floor (the carpeted part). Imagine the fun clouds of powder that go poof when one bats at them or jumps on them. There is so much fun to be had in a household when one has a less than vigilant mother.
Yes, when a child learns the secret of the twist top, a new world is opened. Cups are no longer spill-proof, as evidenced by the half cup of milk pooled at his feet (on the carpet, again), just below the quarter cup pooled on the seat and splashed on his body. How long does it take to achieve this splendor? Seconds. Mere seconds.
There is no rest for the weary.
Oh, and is there a way to describe the look on the child’s face upon discovery, for any one of these or similar events? He knows he’s being mischievous, yet he looks up at me with those big innocent blue-grey eyes. Hi Mommy! Look!
