08_13_2

Guest Blogger: Sarah Smylie

Sarah is a “stay-at-home” mom with three daughters. While she wrote this post, they likely pulled all of the feathers out of her pillows and threw them on top of the honey they’d spread all over the entryway. Read more of Sarah here.

Do they plan these things ahead of time, after I put them to bed? Do they lay there in the dark plotting and scheming how they can use household items in ways that I could never wildly dream or predict? And why do they always look so surprised at my reaction when I find them standing in the middle of an evidence-spattered living room?

I slept in a little past 8:30. Girls had been downstairs for an hour by themselves. What I saw was a little like a murder scene. There were rice krispies littering the floor. All over. From the kitchen table to the living room wall. There were empty mini cereal boxes. I counted four. I saw Ruby’s pajama pants and a discarded diaper. A toasted waffle lying broken in two pieces on the carpet. There was red marker on the ottoman and a few letters written on the carpet near the back door. My entire magnetic grocery list pad of paper (that used to be on the fridge) had the letter “y” written on each page and they were spread throughout the room. There were two cups of milk lying on their side, lifeless. Ruby was mostly naked and running places. Grace looked like she had done something very wrong.

I stormed over to the couch. And then I saw them. In the middle of a pile of markers, to the left of some paper, next to a pair of scissors, were three substantially thick locks of brown hair. Ruby’s hair.

“What HAPPENED???????!!!”

“I layded down on the couch, and den Grace CUDDED my HAIR!!” (with an inflection toward the end that implied the whole experience was very exhilarating for the both of them).

And Rebecca wants another one.

 

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