Saturday, January 11, 2014

I See London, I See France...

We all know the rest of the playground taunt, don't we?  Well, The Three had thankfully yet to be exposed to this sweet poetry until tonight when I was reading Meet Molly, an American Girl doll book.  I had barely finished the rhyme when they started cracking up. This was immediately followed by all three saying it over and over and over and over again.  There's only so much a human can handle when three six-year-olds are non-stop chanting anything, much less something supremely annoying.

Of course I instantly became the big buzz-kill and lectured that they will NOT say that to anyone at school, even if they can see their underwear, that it will hurt someone's feelings, that it's ok to do it at home, in-house, blah, blah, blah.  Which brought the conversation to:

"Yeah! You'll go to the principal's office!"
"Yeah!  You'll get in BIG trouble at school!"
"Yeah!  Our teachers will be really mad!  They'll email you and tell you what we did!  Or call!"

And then they proceeded to chant again.

Why I said the following is still beyond me, because it took the ridiculousness to the next level:

"Okay okay okay!!  You may NOT say I can see your underpants!  But you can say I can see my underpants!  Got it??!!?!"

Oh my stars, the room erupted.

I SEE LONDON, I SEE FRANCE!  I CAN SEE MY UNDERPANTS!" Whereupon they would drop their pj pants and expose their drawers.  And laugh hysterically.  And do it again.

I eventually just left.  I had lost control.

Monday, January 6, 2014

"Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?" - Pink

I know the girls did not throw glitter in the air today.  I know this because I would have heard hysterical laughter and squealing if they had.  Unfortunately, the aftermath of this sweet little glue/glitter/bead craft project, of which I was unaware, was profound.  To quote a friend, it was like "a fairy exploded" in my house (thank you, L).  Actually, it was more like a troupe of fairies.

The craft table, already covered in paper, crayons, beads, markers, etc, was the point of detonation and therefore suffered the most damage.  After that, the sparkly stuff that runs through the veins of many little girls followed the classic shock wave pattern and moved throughout the not-small play room filled with Barbies, Legos and even more Legos, pretend food for the kitchen, and Hot Wheels.  Plastic is a magnet for glitter and I can't imagine how I'll ever get it all off.  To be honest, I won't even try.  I have better and less maddening things to do.

I don't even know where they found it.  I'm pretty mellow about craft projects and the kids are generally free to do whatever they want with whatever they find.  Glue, play doh, scissors, recyclables, paint.  None of them faze me, but the stuff is usually hidden away somewhere. Actually, I like glitter. Most of the reason why I like it is because the kids get so excited when I bring it out, as if I'm presenting them with the keys to the candy factory and an all-you-can-eat pass. 

I'm not even upset with the girls.  Truly.  They were so proud of the work they brought up from the basement, down the hall, to the kitchen.  They left a trail of gold, red, and blue sparkles wherever their sweet little feet trod.  Across carpet.  Across hardwood (there will be glitter in the cracks of the wood FOREVER).  In the bathrooms. On the stairs.  In their bedrooms. In their hair.  Wherever my gaze fell, lay a piece of glorious glitter.  They handed me their shimmering, drippy creations with their hands covered in Elmer's and I felt a little sick.  After the washing-of-the-hands and feet, I forced myself to inspect the crime scene.  Every step closer produced more and more evidence until I felt I was literally walking on a path of gold.  Lovely.  Absolutely lovely.

So I vacuumed and threw the things away I did not want to try and salvage, and vacuumed some more.   It will never go completely away and I'm okay with that.  Maybe tomorrow I'll create a glitter clean-up game with the crumbgobblers where victory means you don't have to brush your teeth for one night.  For some reason they get all wound up if they don't have to participate in good dental  hygiene.   It's a powerful motivator.

True.  So very true.

Friday, January 3, 2014


"Mommeeee!!! GRACIE HIT ME!! SHE HIT ME FOR NO REASON!!!!"   - Johnny

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! I DID HIT HIM FOR A REASON!  HE WOULDN'T TELL ME WHERE THE BALL WAS!!!"  - Gracie, totally indignant that she would be accused of senseless hitting.