I know, I know. You see this face and think, "Awww! How can their day be anything but easy-breezy?!"
Well, let me just tell 'ya, folks. Behind the rosy cheeks and curly ringlets is a child out to get me! You can see it in the eyes, can't you (unless you're a grandparent). It's there: The "Tee hee. What can I wreck next?" twinkle.
We started today with Sophie "accidentally" releasing her good buddy Frazier into the streets. (Turns out, after a little investigative interviewing on my part, it was less "accidental", more hey-for-fun-let's-see-what-Frazier-does-when-I-open-this-gate-really-wide.)
After nearly having a stroke at the thought of the little buggar kidnapped, run over, lost, tarred, feathered (the list went on and on in my frenzied head), I rapidly loaded Sophs into the van and took off on a search of the neighborhood. I envisioned having to have this conversation with Jacob when he came home from work: "Um, hi! So how much did you guys really like Frazier, anyway?"
We finally found the little dude trit-trotting on a road close to the highway. Just prancing along. FREEEEEE! TO BE MEEEEE! WHEEEEEEE! Having a jolly time. I called his name. He turned, smiled, kept running. Sped up his pace. I yelled his name in a way that meant, "If you don't stop RIGHT FARKIN' NOW, you little Toot, you're gonna rue the day!"
He stopped. Flattened himself out pancake-like on the road. I squealed the van to a halt and went over and snatched him up.
Sophie and Frazier received quite the chewing on the drive home. Sophie for the release; Frazier for the boltage and apparent spontaneous hearing loss. Sophie and Frazier are proud to announce they now understand the error of their ways. (They actually looked pretty cute, huddled together in the back seat - bug-eyed and nodding. Yes, Frazier nodded, too.)
During lunch (presumably a calm event by most standards), Sophie managed to flip her bar stool over and land on her head - cottage cheese flying everywhere. Ev-ery-where. Knees skinned and flaming red. Goose egg on her forehead. I was at the counter, back turned when it happened, so I have no idea what she did. And when I asked her, all I got was, "I was sitting on my bottom like nooooooormal!" In her crying/flailing state, she managed to grind half of her plate of food into her hair, clothes, and into the freshly cleaned carpet. She also managed to snort a piece of colby-jack cheese up her nose, which made for a nice panicky moment. Seriously. I have no idea. One second it was smushed on her arm. The next second she wiped her nose with her arm...and PRESTO, dairy products jammed in her nasal cavity. I thought about taking a picture of the ridiculousness (I mean, wouldn't you have enjoyed seeing a picture??), but I decided to refrain at the last minute and comfort my kookadoo child.
During what was supposed to be her nap (naptime, code for: mama's only break of the day), Sophie opted to make a "fort". (Also known as: "a big pile of crap".) Out of the contents of her entire bookshelf. All 150+ books and assorted knick-knacks. In a pile. On the floor. Wadded up. Breaking. ...Not at all fort-like.
When I calmly told her, "You're cleaning that up. Right now...", she said (sweet as plum pudding), "Of course I am, Mama. I planned on it."
Man. I have a whopper headache.
Someone remind me again, please, are there special circumstances that make it NOT poor parenting form to shoot whiskey in front of your four year-old??