- dumped white flour down the cold air return
- dumped ketchup on my bed
- dumped liquid dish soap in our stove elements
- dumped a full bottle of concentrated soap in my bath
Today, a lazy Saturday, I was lying in bed well past 10:00, and Dawn was nursing the baby in the rocking chair in the corner of our bedroom. Suddenly my eldest daughter creeps into the room and says, "Mommy, Ella is putting peanut butter all over her leg."
Knowing that with Dawn occupied any household emergencies automatically become mine, I spring out of bed with the grace of a drunken giraffe. Dawn asks, "Where is she?"
Eldest: "On the couch."
So I stumble downstairs and, indeed, Ella, the subject of a previous mess post, is covering her left leg and foot with peanut butter (not as bad as this or this though). I grab some paper towels and wipe as much off as I can. Then she cracks her first ever pun: "Only toes?" This also happens to be how she pronounces "toast."
Naturally, the floor, the coffee table, the couch and some blankets tossed on it are now quite smeared, but my priority remains with getting Ella cleaned up. I have her put each leg in a plastic grocery bag and hold on to the handles, then send her up to the tub. All told, it took about an hour before everything was cleaned up.
They say that when moms have mischievous children, they silently pass on a curse to those children, that they own progeny would cause them at least as much grief.
And as much as these issues are a nuisance to deal with, I still love being a dad. Sorry, Mom, but your revenge is pure joy.