A Recipe For Trouble

I would like to share a recipe with you today.

Ingredients:
1 sleep deprived mama
1 increasingly independent toddler
A dash of catalyst

Preparation:
1. The night before, teach the toddler how to reach for things on a high shelf. Praise said toddler for her increasing independence.
2. Set the outside temperature to about 68F. Put all household noises to nap.
3. Put sleep deprived mama on a couch.
4. Encourage toddler to put blankets on mama and play nap time.
5. Wait about 30 sec for mama to fall asleep.
6. Leave catalyst (I chose a self inking stamp) on high shelf and watch the wheels spin inside the toddler's head.

Your finished product should look something like this:


I think I was out for about half an hour. I felt something wet on my lip and I brushed it away. I was thinking Kira was probably feeding me something from a spoon. Maybe one that was in her mouth and frankly, I didn't care. I just wanted to stay asleep a little longer. I felt it a second time and it was accompanied by some little giggles. I thought I'd half open my eyes to acknowledge her attempts to play with me. What I saw was most terrifying. Her face and hands were all red. Then I looked around me and I almost had a heart attack!

My precious couch and cushion were ALL RED! I mean, it looked like a crime scene. I had died on the couch and there was blood all around me. The bear that she let me hug to sleep - also red. The blanket - red. I was so shocked that I just didn't say anything to her at first. I put her on a chair and ordered her to sit. Then I proceeded to clean the couch.

The lessons I've learnt?

1. Pay the extra $300 to scotch guard your couch.
2. Only buy washable products, ie washable crayons, washable markers, washable ink pads, etc.
3. Toddlers cannot be trusted - no matter how charming and reasonable they seem.

I obviously was not in the mindset to photograph my couch but I wish I did. After I was pretty sure that most of the damage can be reversed, I went to deal with the girl. I seriously wanted to give her a good talking to but I couldn't stop laughing. It was actually funny. I mean, I had ink on my lip, on my forehead, on my jeans, on my chest, on my arms and on my neck. The girl was also a mess. I couldn't look at her ink covered face and not think, she's just a kid and she is pretty darn funny.

I know, this is also a recipe for raising a criminal. Keep telling her she is funny and just a kid and let her get away with stuff. So, I did my best to turn my laughter into loud yelling and gave her a long long long time out while I giggled myself silly. Ah... motherhood. I wonder how the girl will remember this incident... or if she will remember it at all.