Last night when I got home from running errands, Sophie greeted me at the garage door. Out of breath. And very anxious to tell me something.
"Mama! I got some cheese on the carpet! But it's okay! Daddy's not mad at me."
Distracted as I unloaded the bags from the car, I said...
"Uh, okay, honey."
...Thinking she had probably accidentally gotten some food on the carpet and Russ had cleaned it up. Telling her, "No worries. Accidents happen."
Upon entering the house and following her Guilty Expression into the living room, I realized I had been a wee bit "fuzzy" on the details of the situation. There they were: gazillions of teeny torn-off bits of an American cheese single - scattered all over the carpet, like snow.
It took me a minute or two to process what I was seeing.
*Turns out Daddy wasn't mad. Because Daddy didn't know.
*Turns out Sophie was busy having a hootinanny of a time unsupervised, while Daddy was listening to the Aggie baseball game on the internet. Turns out making cheese snowflakes rocks!
*Turns out Mama was mad. Turns out she had the carpet cleaners come to the house exactly one week too soon.
After spending forty-five minutes on my hands and knees, playing Hide-and-Seek with half-melted cheese tidbits and scrubbing them out of the carpet, I stood up to find lots and lots of tiny cheese smear spots on my jeans.
Not amused, I proceeded to rip them off and fling them onto the nearest chair. However, since the carpet was wet in numerous spots, I opted to leave my Chacos on. (Walking on soggy carpet - not something I particularly enjoy.)
So there I was: T-shirt, panties, sandals. Standing there. Red-faced. Peeved. Smelling like cheese.
It was about that time when Russ walked into the room and declared me "sexy".
Which he said like, "Ooo, baby. SEX-eeeee."
Meaning: so not sexy.
It was around that time that Russell pointed over to our front door.
Ah. Yes. Another one of those moments when having a glass front door, which allows me to take in the beautiful hillside view right outside our house, isn't always a good thing. Because, as it just so happens, it also allows our neighbors to take in the not-so-beautiful view that's inside our house.
Turns out Mooner Mom wasn't concerned with that little detail right then.
The red flash of hell. It was all I was seeing.
After I got everything cleaned up and had calmed down a bit, I reminded myself: Most of the time, the child is just so sweet. And she can be really helpful too.
When she's not busy acting as the Devil's minion.