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Sunday, September 13, 2009

Hide and Seek

Oh, you.

I know you think you're pretty cute, with your cool glasses and smirky little mouth.

I know that, up to this point, you have lived on a steady diet of cooing and smiles and kisses.


I know that you think the world is surrounded by good people who will bend over backwards to meet your every need.


Well, guess what kid....



...the party's almost over.


You see, dear child, you've developed a new, very annoying habit. You'll open the bathroom door, then proceed to open a cabinet. You'll take out the interesting contents, and then you'll walk away with them. Eventually, you'll be attracted to something else, like a shiny spatula or your father's used socks, and drop the comb or the container of floss onto the carpet.

No, love of my life, that by itself is not the annoying habit. The truly extra-annoying, bordering on evil habit of yours is when you decide to hide especially interesting objects from your parents. Like Mommy's glasses.

After a long day of tending to your every whim, Mommy's eyes were screaming for release. She removed her contacts and wandered around the house like the village idiot, running into walls and stubbing her toes, looking for her glasses. She looked (as best as a legally blind person can look) in the normal places--the toy kitchen, the laundry hamper, the recycle bin, the trash cans, under the couch, under the coffee table. She even dug through Mt. Lego, to no avail. She was faced with the difficult choice of going to bed at 8:30 PM or putting her contacts back in her bloodshot eyes. She choose the later, and it felt like 9,000 papercuts on lemon-soaked skin.

And yes, she found the glasses case the next day. In the dishwasher, naturally.

And today, once again, Mommy found something to be missing from her bathroom. Her makeup case. Normally, this isn't a huge deal, but today, your mother was planning on talking to actual adults. She was doing the children's sermon, and giving a talk about a writing workshop (more on this another day). She was also going to a meeting for your brother's preschool.

You, child of my heart, may wonder why your mother cared about impressing a bunch of preschool mothers with her lined eyes and blushed cheeks? Because, Roly Poly Joely, she would prefer to not TERRIFY her new drinking buddies, potential new friends with her ghoulish under eye circles. It's not her intention to be "Goth Mom," or, worse yet, "Tired Mom."

Give a girl some dignity. Give a mother her lipstick.

As of this writing, Joel-Joels, Mommy's makeup remains missing.

Do the right thing, Joel. Stop hiding your mother's toiletries. Otherwise, things could get very, very ugly.

 
(You would stay pretty cute, though.)


***
Somewhat related digression: For a future writing exercise, could you do me a favor and ask me a question about this post in the comments section? Ask anything you want.

2 comments:

Corrie Howe said...

Who picked out these wonderful glasses?

What are some other things your kids have done? (My Faithful Scout toddled out of the bathroom with my bleach upside down. I had a stain in my carpet to remember that scene until we replaced the carpet five years later.)

What did you teach on in the message for children?

What kinds of things have you tried to get published?

Looking forward to my next Writing Wednesday assignment.

Coby Goesling said...

Do you get dressed/shower/do hair/put on make-up every day, or some combination of those things?

What annoying habits did Owen have at Joel's age?

What annoying habits does Owen have now?

What are your kids' endearing habits?