K is, um, hmm...a creative child. Yes, i believe that's the nicest way i can describe her at this juncture. She has expressed her creativity so many times, it was recently suggested we create a game out of it. The Wheel of Terror! It would be a wheel divided like a pie into all the wonderful situations K finds herself in. It would be filled with things like, Paints her face with mascara, Colors her baby doll's head with purple marker, Applies lip gloss to all of her dolls, Draws bracelets on her arms with marker, or (my favorite) Paints her face and hands with brown nail polish. The rules haven't been finalized yet, but I believe it would go something like this...before entering the room K's in, all players would take a spin on the wheel, whomever's spin is closest to K's devastation wins. What do they win? The right to walk out the front door laughing at the others who are left to clean up the wreckage. Sounds fun.
Up until this weekend, K's defacement has been limited to her own body and her own belongings. So even though it's very frustrating, I've been able to laugh it off. Ha ha ha...sort of.
But this weekend, the girl crossed the line. The line that makes me think of overseas boarding schools or dog crates.
Imagine my shock. I enter my bedroom, expecting to find an angelic child curled up, sleeping in my bed only to find her smearing thick hand cream all over the hardwood floor. I mean all over! Thick layers of slippery lotion all over the entire bedroom, smeared in a circular manner. She didn't miss a single floor board. And there was that moment in my head that went something like this...
"What the eff?? Oh my god! OH MY GOD! I'm gonna hurt her! Are you effing kidding me!"
And then, I surveyed the damage.
I didn't know what I should be more concerned about, the fact that my 3 year old was using my scissors unsupervised or that she was defacing Godly things. This couldn't be a good omen, right?
My eyes continued to survey the damage. My mouth was saying things like...
"Oh my God! What did you do? Are you kidding me, K? What did you do? Is this lotion? My new lotion? Oh my God! Look at this! Scissors? You were playing with scissors? And my bed! You smeared lotion all over my bed! What were you thinking? Why would you rub lotion all over my bed? Is this marker? Oh my God!"
Yup. She had gotten into my craft cart.
She decided to practice her calligraphy all over my sheets and duvet cover. Great. With that pen, she crossed the line.
Me: "You got into my stuff? My pens! My markers! My scissors!"
K: "Yes, but not this. I couldn't get it open. And this (points to decoupage bottle) is empty. I shook it and squeezed it but nothing came out."
And for a moment, I remember how incredibly, adorable my little girl is. But just for a moment, because during that moment I moved in for a closer look at the sheets only to find this.
She cut her hair! The same girl who was freaking out about hair loss yesterday, cut her hair. I was speechless. Literally speechless. And with that I picked her up, whisked her away, and put her in the empty bathtub and shut the door. The only place I could think of where she couldn't get into trouble and couldn't have any fun. And with a smile on my face, I imagined leaving her there for days. Don't worry, I would at least send in food under the door.
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