Friday, February 22, 2008
So, Who Wants To Race Me For A Seat On The Stool?
Aww. So very cute. A sweet little face like that couldn't possibly be anything but sugar 'n spicy niceness. Right?
Yesterday was one of those days. It seemed like every time I turned around, Sophie was either wrecking something or participating in her other favorite pastime - trying to wreck herself. You know, eating lotion, chewing on plugged-in heating pad cords, lying on the floor and trying to lick up the crumbs and dried-up food stuff she finds under the refrigerator. Oh, and twirling "just so funny FAST!" in her new Converse tennis shoes, cracking her lip open and nearly rendering herself unconscious on the fireplace hearth.
Just normal stuff for Sophie. I should be used to it.
Turns out, I'm not. So in a fit of frustration, I finally plopped her down in front of the computer screen to watch some Veggie Tales videos on You Tube. Something that would hold her interest. Maybe even glaze her over the teeniest bit (I thought), where she wouldn't hurt herself while I was off sorting piles and transferring the laundry to the dryer. It seemed a reasonable plan, anyway.
However, a moment of calm was not to be. Sophie, in true Sophie-form, managed to find a way to wreak havoc on something. In the .2 seconds she was left unsupervised, she unloaded her creative efforts on the unsuspecting computer. There I was, obliviously sorting whites, when all of a sudden she appeared in the laundry room: "Mama, the computer is all loud and weird!"
I followed her to investigate. Sure enough, there it sat - definitely all loud and weird. It seems Sophie (Button Pushing Genius that she is) managed to activate numerous videos all at the same time. I still haven't the foggiest clue how she did it. It was really pretty impressive. Ten or so Veggie-rific songs were playing at once, layered on top of each other...flashing, like a fluorescent bulb on the fritz. With the volume stuck at an insanely LOUD level. (Oh yeah, that certainly helped my headache.)
When I asked her, "Sophie, how in the world did you do this?"
She responded with, "Well, Mama. I pushed a button."
After several failed attempts to "push a button" myself and close the Veggie Tales On Acid concert she had going, I finally just had to turn the computer totally off (yes, without properly shutting it down) and attempt to reboot.
Sophie thought the whole process was quite entertaining.
After we were settled back down in the living room, she asked if she could have a snack. I made her some popcorn and asked her to sit down and eat it quietly, while I tried again to tackle the humongous heaps in the laundry room. (Please child. Cooperate. Don't make me start popping Daddy's blood pressure medicine.)
It seemed easy enough. Sit. Eat.
I had been in the laundry room for a few minutes, when I realized I didn't hear anything. Not so much as a peep. Ahh, silence. Obedience. I closed my eyes and breathed in the bliss of it.
Wait! Silence! ...Never a good thing where Sophie is concerned.
Again, I went to investigate, and when I rounded the corner to the living room, I was met by a very guilty looking three year old. Eyes bugged. Worry lines furrowed on her forehead. Twitchy.
"Sophie, what did you do?"
"Uh. Well, Mama. I got some little bit of popcorn on the chair and poofer...and a little on that tv glass right there."
It was about that time I realized the footstool she was talking about was nowhere to be seen.
"Sophie, where is the stool?"
"Uh. Well, Mama. I tried to wash it off in the toilet. But I couldn't. So, I just..."
(Big time GUILTY FACE.)
"...put it over back there."
That's when I noticed a corner of the stool peeking out from behind the recliner - covered in chewed up popcorn and pieces of sopping wet toilet paper. Dripping pee water (apparently) all over the back of the recliner and onto the carpet.
Little stinking TOOT. Oh, man, I just wanted to...
Frickin' farker frickafrack!!! Scream.
How is it possible to love someone to the very depths of your soul and still want to knock them out with the Sam's sized bottle of Tide you're holding?