Last post I commented on how fast my kids are growing up. This started me contemplating the truly memorable things they have done. I’m not sure if my son merely excels at mischief or if by the time Miss Drama came along it was harder to impress me, but his feats are MUCH more numerous and creative in my memories.
Here’s a snapshot of stories that shall embarrass them for decades to come starting with my youngest:
Miss Drama possessed an aversion to clothing until she was about six years old. At the drop of a hat all her clothes might disappear. One day when Miss Drama was about four, my best friend baby-sat her, and no sooner did I pull out of the drive than she shed her clothes and perched in the front window.
“Mama lets me look out.”
Dearest Anne, a pro at such things, handled it quite well. “Yes, but not naked, I’m sure. How about we dress up like a princess?”
Miss Drama happily donned a little princess outfit she had, but refused such pesky accessories like underpants or shorts. She mooned poor Anne and happily said, “You can still see my bottom!”
I shall spare everyone the totally gross poo finger-painting exploits of Miss Diva as a toddler and instead regale you with something less likely to turn your stomach. Miss Diva was a grand two years old when I was pregnant with her sister. Her brother, 22 months older than her, was (and still is) the elusive renewable energy source the government seeks to harness. Hanging onto one toddler is tricky enough, two, even trickier, but two and the unbalanced load of my expanding girth required extreme measures. I swore I wouldn’t buy one, but I got one of those little kid leashes for Miss Diva. After disappearing in a Wal-mart in about 20 seconds flat to go on her own shopping expedition, I figured looking like an idiot was better than losing my adventurous toddler.
I decide to try it out at the local library. The leash had a harness, decorated with Elmo. Miss Diva, took no notice of the harness as I carried her, but when I put her down and she discovered the tether between us, she decided to use her imagination. She got down on all fours and proceeded to bark like a dog in the middle of the library, at a very loud volume.
The exploits of Mr. Smarty-pants are many and varied. Even at two, no pan of brownies was safe from him. If it existed, he could climb it. He excelled at his job of “big brother”, until the sisters got old enough to have their own opinions and no longer appreciated having everything blamed on them. The lengths he went to acquire “proper” material for his cars or dinosaurs to adventure in gave me a good number of headaches. He manages on a near daily basis to say something that makes me laugh.
Art is one of his major interests and has been such since the ripe age of about eighteen months. Thankfully he decided crayons were better for coloring than eating. (The blue poop was a surprise to say the least.) He also managed to excel at finding things that I couldn’t even find, like Sharpies. Whenever I needed one I could never find one. Yet, he managed to find them on multiple occasions. Once, he marches into the bathroom where I am doing what one does in a bathroom. From head to toe he’s drawn stripes on himself- in SHARPIE.
“Look Mama, I’m a zebra!”
The copious amounts of rubbing alcohol used to get the worst of it off discouraged him from body art. Instead he switched to other canvases. I get out of the shower one afternoon to find the toddler that was supposed to be napping holding a Sharpie.
Crap! Where did he get that one?
I confiscate the Sharpie and ask him to show me what he drew on. From the wall beside the door in his room all the way around the entire room, a wobbly line traced a path ending in a big blob of circles on the inside of his bedroom closet.
“It’s a snake.”
It took uncounted layers of Kilz and a HEAVY coat of paint to cover his snake.
I suspect the litany of exploits shall continue for a good number of years.