Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Silent but deadly.

Okay, not that silent but deadly. Get your mind out of the gutter. My lovely children are the kind of silent but deadly to which I am referring. This afternoon I let the girls play with play-doh at their little table, which I moved into my bedroom so I could keep an eye on them while I hung some new curtain rods. They were playing together nicely, so when they were finished, I let them go play upstairs together instead of taking naps. Brynn has pretty much outgrown naps and Callie periodically does okay without one if she goes to bed early.

Since they were being so good (or so I thought), I started making dinner. Enjoying the peace and quiet while I browned meat for Irish Beef Stew (which was supposed to be Irish Lamb Stew, but my farmer accidentally packed beef in my order instead of lamb), I was thinking about the blog and working out a future post in my head. But not this post. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Brynn sneaking up the stairs. She'd been so quiet on the way down I hadn't even noticed her. I looked over and saw right away that she had something dark pink all over her mouth, including on her tongue. As I began interrogating her about the source of the pink stuff on her mouth, her little sister popped her head around the corner from upstairs and I nearly fell over. Her face, her sweet little angelic face, was covered from the bottoms of her eyes to the tip of her chin with purple, green, and pink marker. Covered. Now I wish that I had taken a few photos, but at the time all I could do was stare in amazement. "How the hell am I gonna get that off of their faces? It's gonna end up looking like old bruises and I'll be sent to jail for child abuse," is actually what was running through my mind.

So up the stairs we go, with me remaining relatively (and surprisingly) calm. At one point I actually laughed out loud. That is, until we got to the bathroom. Marker on the white towels. Marker on the walls. Marker on the vanity. Marker on the sink. Then I screamed. High pitched and at the top of my lungs. I realize that Scott and I have a new "no yelling, period" rule in the house, but I'm a rule breaker. What can I say? I screamed bloody murder and both girls looked at me in the mirror and screamed too. Angry, I left to go throw away the guilty markers. Then I saw more. Marker on the desk. Marker on the wall. Marker on the carpet in Callie's room. It was like someone had let two preschoolers loose in my house with thirty markers at their disposal. Oh, wait, I guess that's what I did. Unsuspectingly, of course.

I started the bath tub as Brynn screamed and cried that she needed something to wipe her face on (I had already thrown the towels downstairs to be washed). Ignoring her, I grabbed some mineral oil and smothered it all over their faces. In case you're ever in need of an easy-ish way to remove marker from a little kid's face, mineral oil seems to do the trick. I put them both in the tub, topped the mineral oil with lots of soap, and scrubbed for a minute or two. Then I had them stick their faces in the water (thankfully they don't mind wet faces) and eventually all but the dimmest traces of marker were removed from their little mugs. In fact, I got it off of everything except the carpet in Callie's room. Sigh. I guess it's time to call the carpet steamers.

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