Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The Marker and the Eggs.

Wouldn't that be a fabulous title for a Children's book???  I even have an illustration in mind...  Moving on...

Over the long weekend Sesame reared her curly-mopped head and showed us exactly what two means.  There were no tantrums or hitting or screaming, but there were exercises in independence and curiosity--to put it nicely.  :)

On Saturday morning I ran to the grocery store and to complete some errands.  I asked Husband to keep an eye on Sesame to which he replied.  "sure."  He's not a morning person.  'Sure.' from him in the AM is the equivalent to my "Yeah, that sounds great!  Come on Sesame let's make Cupcakes!"  I left did my errands and returned about 45 minutes later.  As I trekked upstairs I noticed a black smudge above our light switch.  "Hmm...I thought...that's odd."  Then I noticed another.  And another with three tiny streaks - oddly the size of a Sesame hand.  As I arrived in the office I found a pile of papers with black magic marker covering their notes.  "HUSBAND!"  I yelled.  "What?"  he replied.  "WHAT HAPPENED?!  DID YOU KNOW SHE DID THIS?! THERE'S MARKER EVERYWHERE!?"  "Oh."  He replied.  I then gave him the Mom look, even though I'm his wife.  "I though I got it all"  he said.

The story he recounted goes something like this:  Husband falls asleep on the couch shortly after wife leaves.  Sesame finds a black magic marker.  Sesame decorates Momma's papers with said marker.  Sesame realizes her hands are dirty and wants them clean.  Sesame scoots down the stairs spreading small traces of finger prints along the stairwell wall.  Sesame wakes Daddy up and says: "Daddy, hands yucky.  Clean, please."  At least she was polite.  : )

Husband and I have a conversation about what it means to watch a two year old -- and sleeping is not on the list.  : )

Monday comes.  Husband has the day off (insert happy dance here!) and we have a grand time playing as a family.  I find my cell phone (I NEVER know where it is and when I find it it's usually not charged!) and discover I missed an important phone call.  "Husband,"  I say, "Can you keep and eye on Sesame for me?"  "Yes." He says.  I'm on the phone in our room chatting away, when Sesame walks in.  "Momma!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear, "Help in kitchen!"  I think, 'Oh how cute is she, wanting me to play in the kitchen with her.'  Then I realize she is holding not pretend eggs, but real eggs.  Like the kind chickens lay--you know--the ones you buy at the store and put in cake.  Not only is she holding them, but one is cracked open and running down her arm.  "I HAVE TO GO!"  I scream into the phone.  "HUSBAND!"  I yell!  "What?"  he says calmly. "SHEHASREALEGGS!HOWDIDSHEGETINTOTHEREFRIGERATOR?!WHATAREYOUDOING!?"

We had Sesame clean up the eggs, and help put away the trash, after which we talked about NOT opening the refrigerator.  Goodness gracious.  If I would have known my eggs were in danger, I would have put them on the top shelf!


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