She's two and a half.
Just a couple of weeks ago I was talking with a friend who has a child about the same age. She was telling me about how her son is into taking all his clothes off now. I just laughed and said, "Well, thankfully we haven't had to deal with that yet." Big Sister is almost five and never went through that phase so I was expecting the same from Little Sister. I'm not sure why. They've not done much the same. Big Sister never had to wear a bib and ate her peas one at a time with her pointer finger and thumb. Little Sister eats like it's the last day to eat and in the process gets about half of her food on her face, in her seat, and on the floor.
Anyway, THAT VERY NIGHT, Little Sister stripped down. THAT NIGHT. How did she know? It's like sometimes she lives to prove me wrong. I wrote about a midnight nudist excursion here but the most recent strip down took the cake.
A couple of days ago I was feeling down in the dumps over the child of one acquaintance on life support and the death of another child of another acquaintance on the same day. Both due to tragic accidents. So I spent the day really bonding with the girls. We ran through the sprinklers, we baked cookies, we watched a movie cuddled together on the couch in the middle of the day. And the grand finale? We painted finger nails and toe nails. Hot pink. Fuscia Power to be exact. This was Little Sister's first time and although it was difficult to keep her still long enough to let things dry and she did have to have a couple of fingers repainted because she immediately touched them while they were wet, overall, she was giddy over it. She repeatedly showed me her nails and said, "Look my hands Mama!" So I settled them down for one more episode of The Wonder Pets before bed and went downstairs to clean up a little.
No more than five minutes later, Little Sister was on the catwalk looking down into the great room saying, "Look my leg Mama, my leg." Distracted, I didn't look up at first and just kept saying, "Uh huh...yeah...your leg." But she kept on and on with, "Look my leg Mama," and it kept getting louder. I finally looked up to see my nude child sticking her leg through the rails and noticed it had large mysterious hot pick blotches on it. Suddenly I had a vision. Hot pink nail polish. Where had I put it? I thought I put it up high on the buffet in the bonus room where she couldn't even see it. But somehow, in the last five minutes, she had managed to find it, get it, and paint herself. I bolted up the stairs and immediately started looking around. I ran into the bonus room to find this.
And there in front of the buffet was a toy trunk that seriously weighs about 150 pounds (now that's some FUSCIA POWER) and the nail polish right where I left it, only it looked like this. 
Somehow she dragged the toy trunk in front of the buffet, twisted the top off of the nail polish, stripped down, painted herself, and then came to show me her handiwork. I spent the next few minutes wiping her down with cotton balls and nail polish remover. I spent a few minutes after that looking on the internet for a magic formula to get nail polish out of carpet. I spent about an hour after putting the girls to bed finding out the magic formula to remove the nail polish from the carpet is not so magic.
Now I have to say, it did kind of challenge my thoughts of wanting to dote on my darling girls and not focus on the material things and the stuff that doesn't really matter. Had someone asked me earlier that day, "So how about your carpet? How attached are you to that?" I'd have thought, "It's just carpet." Well, I confess, I care about that carpet more than I want to admit but in the end it really doesn't matter. It's a lesson. It's a memory. It's a story I'll tell at her rehearsal dinner one day if we're blessed enough to get there. It will be funny then I guess. And it is just carpet. I have lovely hot pink blotches to remind me...every...day. If I could just keep her dressed...
Just a couple of weeks ago I was talking with a friend who has a child about the same age. She was telling me about how her son is into taking all his clothes off now. I just laughed and said, "Well, thankfully we haven't had to deal with that yet." Big Sister is almost five and never went through that phase so I was expecting the same from Little Sister. I'm not sure why. They've not done much the same. Big Sister never had to wear a bib and ate her peas one at a time with her pointer finger and thumb. Little Sister eats like it's the last day to eat and in the process gets about half of her food on her face, in her seat, and on the floor.
Anyway, THAT VERY NIGHT, Little Sister stripped down. THAT NIGHT. How did she know? It's like sometimes she lives to prove me wrong. I wrote about a midnight nudist excursion here but the most recent strip down took the cake.
A couple of days ago I was feeling down in the dumps over the child of one acquaintance on life support and the death of another child of another acquaintance on the same day. Both due to tragic accidents. So I spent the day really bonding with the girls. We ran through the sprinklers, we baked cookies, we watched a movie cuddled together on the couch in the middle of the day. And the grand finale? We painted finger nails and toe nails. Hot pink. Fuscia Power to be exact. This was Little Sister's first time and although it was difficult to keep her still long enough to let things dry and she did have to have a couple of fingers repainted because she immediately touched them while they were wet, overall, she was giddy over it. She repeatedly showed me her nails and said, "Look my hands Mama!" So I settled them down for one more episode of The Wonder Pets before bed and went downstairs to clean up a little.
No more than five minutes later, Little Sister was on the catwalk looking down into the great room saying, "Look my leg Mama, my leg." Distracted, I didn't look up at first and just kept saying, "Uh huh...yeah...your leg." But she kept on and on with, "Look my leg Mama," and it kept getting louder. I finally looked up to see my nude child sticking her leg through the rails and noticed it had large mysterious hot pick blotches on it. Suddenly I had a vision. Hot pink nail polish. Where had I put it? I thought I put it up high on the buffet in the bonus room where she couldn't even see it. But somehow, in the last five minutes, she had managed to find it, get it, and paint herself. I bolted up the stairs and immediately started looking around. I ran into the bonus room to find this.
And there in front of the buffet was a toy trunk that seriously weighs about 150 pounds (now that's some FUSCIA POWER) and the nail polish right where I left it, only it looked like this. Somehow she dragged the toy trunk in front of the buffet, twisted the top off of the nail polish, stripped down, painted herself, and then came to show me her handiwork. I spent the next few minutes wiping her down with cotton balls and nail polish remover. I spent a few minutes after that looking on the internet for a magic formula to get nail polish out of carpet. I spent about an hour after putting the girls to bed finding out the magic formula to remove the nail polish from the carpet is not so magic.Now I have to say, it did kind of challenge my thoughts of wanting to dote on my darling girls and not focus on the material things and the stuff that doesn't really matter. Had someone asked me earlier that day, "So how about your carpet? How attached are you to that?" I'd have thought, "It's just carpet." Well, I confess, I care about that carpet more than I want to admit but in the end it really doesn't matter. It's a lesson. It's a memory. It's a story I'll tell at her rehearsal dinner one day if we're blessed enough to get there. It will be funny then I guess. And it is just carpet. I have lovely hot pink blotches to remind me...every...day. If I could just keep her dressed...
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5 comments:
Hilarious. What is the magic solution???? :)
Hey Sarah! The magic solution is SUPPOSEDLY nail polish remover, shaving cream, and windex. Crazy right? However, I think this only works if you do it immediately when the nail polish is still wet. Unfortunately, this polish was the fast drying kind.
Oh, my goodness! Here is a tip on getting the stains out, in case you need one. Spray Barbasol shave cream right on the spot, rub it in with your fingers, rub with a damp paper towel.
I had nudist children too. Britnee always wanted to just walk around nude. I just knew she was headed for a career at The Gold Club. She still tells me that she wishes we did not have to wear clothes. Brett would go tee-tee right next to the street in front of our house, wearing only his underwear. He would pull the underwear to his ankles and go right there. He was 3 years old but still walks out on our deck to use the bathroom. He just doesn't pull the pants down to his ankles. The grass is mighty green in that area.
Did you get it out? It had to be hot pink, right? Aidan is our nudist- he pulls off all his clothes whenever he can. He has some aversion to wearing pants. :)
Cute story!! Sorry about the carpet. We've got a huge red candle wax stain right as you come in the front door- wonder if the magic solution would help that?
Oh my goodness, I am so sorry about the pink pink pink carpet. That is too funny though. She must have had that super hero power that came over her to move that big trunk! They really know more than we think they do! Yikes!
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