Lots of errands and Hurricane Girlchild did not hinder my efforts even though we had to endure unseasonably cold weather which made all of the running around tiresome for me.
Her behavior surprised me. I'm used to needing (or wanting) to leave her at home in order to 'get done' what I had to. But she was a trooper this week and was her charming, adorable self as we attended appointments, shopped, lunched and had every bank teller and store clerk ooh-ing and ahh-ing over how cute she is and what an angel she was. She had every 20 something female with a uterus we encountered aching for one of their own.
Little do they know.
She's a ninja.
As I washed walls this week I started doing an inventory of broken items, walls that require new paint and various other destruction left in her wake.
Now you'll think I'm the worst mom on the planet. You're wrong. I'm the world's Okay-est Mom if you have to put a label on it. I'm not the world's worst mom and here's why - because she's a ninja. She doesn't get left alone with no supervision. Ever. However she does manage to destroy in a matter of seconds right under our noses. Because- she's a ninja.
She can turn a bathroom into a crime scene with one bowel movement.
In mere minutes she produced the most beautiful pencil sketch on her bedroom wall. How she even got her hands on a pencil with out me seeing I'll never know. She once single handedly picked most of the keys off of my lap top. She is soley responsible for most of - if not all of the finger prints found on our walls- all approximately 24" off the ground. A bathtub can be drained of half of it's water in seconds, perhaps a plot to kill us as we enter the room and almost slip to our certain fate.
She'd never get away with murder because her finger prints are on every glass or mirrored surface we pass.
I can hear her opening cupboard doors from the next room and then the pitter patter of her running back to where she was previously because she knows she was doing something I would not approve of and I'm on my way.
And please don't ever give her a pair of scissors- teeny tiny pieces of paper appear a'la Edward Scissorhands and cover the floors, and couch, and table top, and are tracked down the hall...like freshly fallen snow.
Me "Hey- how did you get those marshmallows down off of the shelf?"
She "A little imagination."
holy shit. CFS is going to show up on my doorstep one day.
What is so amazing about her is the speed in which these offences occur. She's quick, and she's smart. Always one step ahead of me. I'm like Inspector fucking Clouseau- stumbling into the scene.
I'm enjoying the time I've spent with the Hurricane this last week, we're getting to know each other as it were. Plus it's fun, I make catching her and the clean up a game so I don't burst into tears while huddled in the fetal position under my dining room table. I have to admit, being home with her has had an effect on the amount of damage and I've been able to contain the chaos, plus I'm slowly learning to anticipate her next move.
If I sound like I'm complaining I'm not. She's funny and smart and creative and spirited-and she's a ninja.
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