Friday, August 19, 2011

Scene: Disaster

Working the evening shift at a local hospital, I arrive home rather late.
Midnight on a good night, but in some cases I don't get home until
almost 1 a.m. like last night. Needing to "wind down" I had a snack
and watched a bit of TV, tucking myself into bed by 2 a.m. At 5 something
in the morning a thunderstorm rolled through the area with fierce 
thunderclaps that sent my almost 4 year old scurrying to our bed. 
Being quite the wiggle worm, I didn't really sleep until she told
my husband (who gets up for work super early) that she was going
back to her own bed. This was a first. I was mildly suspicious of 
her too-good-to-be true claim she that she was going back to sleep,
but in my sleepy stupor, I assured myself that all would be well.

Cut to 8:30 a.m. A little face appears in my blurred gaze. Her 
multicolored hands and arms hint to the disaster that awaits
me in the kitchen. "Mommy, I need help painting." Painting...
what? I snapped back into reality instantly and ran to the 
scene of the crime...  . Well painting really isn't a crime, okay
the scene of mayhem. A series of events unfolds in my head.
I see her erasable crayons and corresponding workbooks on
the kitchen table, but all the crayons have been stripped of their
paper wrapping and are broken into pieces from rolling off the 
table and striking the floor. Another coloring/painting book 
rests on the table with fresh paint staining the pages. The 
paint covers the table, and the kitchen towel is suspiciously

How did she get all this stuff out of the locked art cabinet? My
eyes dart the art cabinet. The door is wide open; the magnetic
"key" lies on the floor instead of it's usual post on the fridge.
Water is trickling from the kitchen faucet. Her step stool is 
positioned so that she could retrieve a medicine cup to fill
with water for rinsing her paint brush. Yes, there on the table
was a medicine cup filled with multicolored water. 

Amidst the colorful chaos, stood my daughter, her angelic face
and hopeful eyes seemed to wonder what my reaction would be.
I forced myself to look at the bright side. The creativity was 
contained in the kitchen. Thank you, Lord. I simply put all the 
art supplies up, wiped up all the paint, and instructed my daughter 
that she is not to paint without me again. She quickly responded, 
"I'm sorry mom." 

After retrieving my youngest from his crib and making breakfast 
for my two darlings, I called my husband to report on the morning. 
The thunderous laughs from the other end of the line didn't do 
much to comfort, but I had to agree it was funny. I grudgingly 
chuckled and admitted it was a great story. 


  1. Very sweet. This made me smile this morning :)

  2. I'm smiling about it... now. :) I'm glad to brighten
    your morning. There's never a dull moment in
    my house! Since this post, I've had to fend off
    toddler hands from my chore of loading the dish-
    washer, sopped up spilled water caused by those
    same toddler hands, disposed of a caterpillar
    brought to me from again those same toddler
    hands. The catch is my kids haven't been outside
    today. Where did the caterpillar come from? Even
    now, I'm typing with one hand help captive by,
    yes, those same toddler hands. :)

  3. What a beautiful picture you "painted" for us, Tanya! Priceless. Just like your children.

  4. Thanks, Cynthia! :) In the process of typing it out,
    I found myself giggling here and there. You just
    have to laugh at a situation like that. My wee babes
    are priceless. They are a blessing and delight, even
    when being creative with paint. :)