No runts today; Uncle C is taking the day off. I do have a nice little tale of destruction from about a week ago that may prove entertaining, however.
I was trying to put a lesson plan together while Peff, Reaggers, Bub, and Squizzle played in the next room. They had decided they wanted to play Lego Indiana Jones, and so I gave Squizzle a bottle and put him down for a nap on the couch. I came into the kitchen and sat at the table to work on my lesson.
After about five minutes, I hear Squizzle stomp into the kitchen. I was only half paying attention to him and he ran straight to the cabinet under the sink, or as it is occasionally called, the "Forbidden Cabinet of Magical Mysteries".
I know.
I should have a child lock on it, but I don't. Moms think of that crap, not Mr. Moms. I am not sure what the boy thinks is in there, but I can't believe that it is not a tremendous disappointment for him when he actually manages to get the door open. All that's in there is the tub of dishwasher soap, the roll of garbage bags, and some dishrags. Not exactly Blackbeard's treasure.
Nevertheless, if one keeps one's eye on the prize for long enough, eventually one will find success. Squizzle caught me only paying half attention and snuck into the "Forbidden Cabinet of Magical Mysteries" and pulled the tub of dishwasher detergent from it.
I am fully cognizant of the potential for catastrophic disaster here. My mother warned us thousands of times to keep the little kids out of dishwasher detergent because even though it smelled of wintergreen, it did not taste of it.
Mom had a friend with a child that had to have all kinds of horrible treatments at Primary Children's hospital because they innocently sampled dishwasher machine soap and so it was one of her major worries.
I turned around in time to catch Squizzle trying desperately to get the lid off the tub. While he was unsuccessful, there was plenty of detergent dust on the outside of the container to gain my complete attention. So I snatched him up and pitched him into the sink for a full-on scrub down.
While my back was turned, Peff and Reaggers decided this was their big shot to do some dirty work. They snuck in and snitched a bag of mini-marshmallows from the pantry. By the time I could pay enough attention to see what they were doing, the snack had escalated into a full-blown mini snowball fight.
I knew exactly were this was headed. If I stopped it they'd only find something else to destroy while I was picking up the marshmallows. I've seen this type of escalation before. You turn your back to clean up one thing, and the monsters find something worse to get into and annihilate. It is their S.O.P, and I am becoming somewhat of an expert observer.
Since I still had to go down and get a new outfit for Squizz, I made the call to ignore the destruction for a moment and focus on one thing at a time. What difference between half a bag of marshmallows strewn about the room or a whole bag?
I forgot one of the Cardinal rules of Destroying Angel care. NEVER; I say again, NEVER make the assumption that you have them figured out. As a wise man said, "When you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you...and...umption (or was it when you assume you make an ass of u and me? Wait...it's got to be your bull...or was it the butcher's?...Never mind. Forget I wrote it).
While I was dressing the baby, the Runts decided that throwing marshmallows was only about as half as fun as spitting them at one another. According to my theory, this type of escalation should only have occurred as punishment for me stopping them in their previous fun. I did nothing to deserve this! I let them have their way and this is how they repay my generosity?
By the time I got back upstairs, I found about two dozen soggy, sticky, goo-blobs stuck to my carpet as well as the kitchen linoleum, the walls, the TV, and in perhaps the most impressive display of five year old expectoration ever...The kitchen ceiling.
That one was impressive enough that I actually stopped being angry long enough to ask for a demonstration of how it was accomplished. Imagine my surprise to find that both Peff and Bub were able to pull it off. Hidden talents you never thought your kids might have. File "spitting marshmallows to the ceiling" right between "Make yourself belch" and "Use your armpit to create flatulence noises".
Who knew the sins of my youth would haunt me so long?
Enough for now, I gotta go spend the rest of my afternoon hunting on the job boards. Wish me luck!
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