The Usual Suspects

Life is full of little adventures. Three juvenile suspects. Three adventures yesterday. Here's a breakdown of the small but significant happenings around our house over the past 2o hours. (Imagine some film-noir music in the background while you read these).

"Deer Park Lake"
5:18pm. At the computer desk.
My 6-year old came in and asked if he could take a water bottle outside with him. Normally I would have said yes, but I knew he had just had one that a friend brought out for him. So I said he could just get a drink in the kitchen and go back outside. He replied, "But I really need this out there. We're making a lake." Ummm, no. Not with bottled water, you're not. I'm glad he asked before taking our entire supply out there.

"Writing Style"
7:04pm. Kitchen table.
My 10-year old was nearly finished with the homework he had been whining about for forty minutes, which was to copy a one-page paper into cursive. He suddenly burst into tears and cried that he would have to start all over. I entered the room to find that he had knocked over his water glass and about half the page was soaked. I couldn't stand the thought of him whining (even more intensely than he had before) for another forty minutes. So, while he cleaned up his water mess, I took the page upstairs and blow-dried it. Yes, I told him, Mom now offers salon services for homework pages.

"Tomato Tornado"
Part 1: 6:07pm. Dining room table.
Our 18-month old loves tomatoes. She especially likes them when they are part of home-made salsa. She eats the salsa like it's the main course, begging for more the moment she finishes. She had several helpings last night until my husband said that was probably as much as she should eat of it. When she understood no more was coming to her tray she leaned over and put her face in the remaining slop (tomato juices, etc.) and starting sucking it up.

Part 2: 7:16am. Her bedroom.
I opened her bedroom door this morning and the smell hit me like a truck. She had thrown-up the salsa all over in her bed and on her clothes. There were tomato bits hanging from her hair, looking like projectile debris from a tornado. I put her in the bath and began the disgusting process of cleaning up her room, which reminds me--I need to go change the laundry.

All in a day's work, I guess. Today, I feel somewhat like a super-hero. Liqui-girl. Or maybe De-Liqui-girl, because I have been de-liquifying things. I prevented an unnecessary lake, I saved homework by shooting it with my blow-drier, and I saved us all from the horrific smelly liquid in the baby's room. Whew! What's next?