Topic today: Something that makes me smile. Well, it’s definitely not the baby making messes in the bathroom. That’s one of her favorite activities that makes her smile. She pours out the baby powder onto the floor. She pulls out every wipe and “cleans up” the powder. She puts her toothbrush on the counter and squirts toothpaste onto it, but she misses and it’s all over the sink. She unrolls the whole roll only to rip off a foot long piece. Then she tries to wipe up the toothpaste with the toilet paper. When it dissolves into a gunky turquoise mess she turns on the water. She’s not too delicate about that maneuver. The water sprays everything, the mirror, the counter and her shirt. She doesn’t want to be wet so she takes her shirt off. She throws it on the floor and steps on it and the toilet paper while climbing back up onto the stool to continue “cleaning”. By now you must be wondering where her mother is and why no one is watching her. I am right there with you. It’s too quiet. I start calling out her name. I see the light shining under the door to the bathroom. I know it can’t be good and … it isn’t.
Contrary to the sweet giggles of Grandma, this doesn’t make me laugh. It doesn’t make me smile. It makes me frustrated. You know why? Because while I try to mop up the madness in the bathroom, she runs into the kitchen. In the kitchen, she opens a drawer with the force of a team of elephants and the whole thing falls out. Then she grabs the bag of baggies she’s looking for and pulls them all out to get one. She puts that one little baggie on the counter, gets the whole box of Cheerios, and tries to put it in the bag by turning the whole thing upside down. Then she goes to the refrigerator and while pulling out the milk she knocks over the juice and leaves it laying on the floor, puddling. She steps in it while carrying the milk. It’s too heavy for her little arms so she leaves the fridge open as she heads over to her snack. Oops. She trips over the dog and falls down. There goes the milk. No problem. She picks it back up and pours the rest of the milk onto the pile of Cheerios. Now she calls me. She can’t find the princess spoon.