what BAD thing?

I wrote the other day about the Kid doing a BAD thing right off the bat, first thing in the morning, that stunned me and launched me into you-are-in-so-much-trouble-you-are-not-getting-getting-what-is-it-again-you-love rage. I debated about writing what she actually did because, well, the hubs has been all paranoid about writing details, or, embarrassing, private details of the Kid that are sent out into the blogosphere where no one really cares what I write where our baby’s whole world could see, years from now when she graduates middle school or runs for leader of the free world a local street gang.

So I thought about it. And I’m not telling you a bunch of stuff about the Kid (and she comes up with a bunch of stuff!), but I’ve decided this little trick she dreamed up showed such creativity blended with a scientist’s curiosity that I’m gonna share.

Let’s set the scene: the Kid had crawled into our bed at 4am saying, “I’m coming in because I just had a nightmare, Mommy.” Being the softhearted woman I am, I said, “Errmphmfffphfff…”

A few hours later, we all awake in our Family Bed, Dog included, oh yes. Kid gets out first, thank goodness, or I’d have to do a somersault down the middle of the bed and over the Dog. Kid heads into my bathroom that the hubs is allowed to share (and even to remodel it recently) and closes the door.

Nothing suspicious here, right? Wrong! Did you catch it, moms? I’ll tell you what The Warning Sign was: she closed the door. Normally around here, Kid not only doesn’t close the door, she invites you to come stand in the doorway, keep her company, or even, if you’re lucky, to wipe. (these aren’t embarrassing, private details, are they?)

So, there I am in bed and that little alarm voice, whispering ever so softly because it just woke up, too, says: how ODD she closed the door…. But, being tired, sleepyheaded and lazy, I reply, “Ermmphfphffff.”

Meanwhile, what did that little imp do in there?

This: She grabbed several of the new, mint green floss sticks on the counter (out to guilt me remind me to floss, since a most thorough hygienist recently chiseled a boulder of tartar from my mouth like she was pickaxing hard rock ore from a mountain).

Oh, so what, you say? Floss sticks, big whoop, what can you do with those? Which must also be what the Kid thought….

Because she then opened my contact lens case (oh yes wait for it) where my newest pair of lenses lay sleeping in their cool bed of solution), pulled out a lens and (here’s where the creativity comes in) using the floss stick, cut my lens in half. Just like Emeril slicing goat cheese. BAM!

Or, that’s what she did to one lens. The other one I could not find. I can only imagine the torture it endured at the hands of the evil minty floss stick girl.

Naturally, the hidden beauty of this little adventure was she did not confess it. No, she merely left the parts and pieces behind on the bathroom counter.

For me to discover when I went to put in my contacts.

Hey, why are all these floss sticks all over the counter…

At which point, I lost it.

I’ve had a few days since this event, and upon reflection, I believe the true moral to the story has nothing to do with parenting, discipline, sleep habits or rules. It is simply this: don’t floss.

And THAT is my long-winded diatribe offering for this week’s Make Me Laugh Monday, hosted by Jenny on the Spot. Because I need to laugh about it now while I’m waiting for my bald patch to grow back in.

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