Now who died?
Actually, no small child stuck their hand in the blender. It’s just red food coloring. Judith dumped out a whole bottle of it out and said, “Think fast.” I waived all expletives on account of time restraints and snatched the laptop for a quick wipe down. Then I shot the above picture to Daddy Boy via text. I figured if he thought someone died he might show up faster to help me clean up. He breezed through the front door in record time. Food coloring seems to come out all right if you get it fast enough and the surface isn’t too porous. We might have to refinish the kitchen counter. You should see what they did to the carpets last month with a bottle of ox blood leather dye. Yes, it was all that springs to mind.
In other news, Daddy cooked up a wicked British breakfast this morning, complete with fried mushrooms and cherry tomatoes. The children walked into the room and the first thing out of their mouths was, “Wait, where’s the tea?” It’s not a British breakfast without the tea. My kids are schooled.
Lately, the children seem to always be bringing up the time I made a path of paper dots leading from their bedroom door to their Easter baskets. Apparently they thought that was great and it seems to come up randomly in equally random conversations. So last night, as I was putting together Valentines, I asked Marc, “Now can you get the hole punch and make a bunch of paper dots while I….” I could tell I wasn’t getting anywhere. He just looked at me for a bit before saying, “I’m going to bed.”
Obviously I was going about it all wrong. If you talk rope you generally get a better response from men than when you mention cutting up paper into a mess of tiny dots. I should know this already. So this morning Daddy Boy snuck downstairs and tied his throw line to the kids’ bedroom door and then ran it through the house, garage, front yard, and into the back yard where he had stashed the Valentines.
I think this is a tactic we will employ often. While we were getting this business together I used the opportunity to write my children love notes. I decided as the boys get older I will make even more of a point to embarrass them. Just for fun. Because I love them so. Gideon started reading his Valentine out loud and then stopped, “I can’t read this,” he said. My sentiments were pretty mushy and sweet. Until I got to Judith. Then I wrote something like this: “Judith, you little dung heap. You are the cutest pile of poo. Everybody loves you. Even when you pinch them. Kisses and hugs. Mommy.”