Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Glitter Fairy Strikes Again
Peter. Ah, Peter.
He is such a sweet kid. Really. He is so amenable and pleasant to have around. Ok Mom! I love you Mom! Lets do whatever you like, Mom!
He is also an imp. A daredevil. A ringleader. If my children are doing something dangerous or explicitly forbidden, dollars to donuts it was his idea.
Friday morning I had six loads of laundry to put away, so I set up Peter and Princess on the floor with an Ikea cardboard box, some washable markers and stickers and let them go to town coloring the box. I started putting away laundry. I could hear the two of them chatting away to each other. I kept looking in on them, and they were having a good time. This period of time was less than ten minutes.
My mistake was that I set them up on the floor, in front of the sofa. From the bedroom I could see the tops of their heads and that they were not killing each other. I could not actually see what they were doing. I've been doing this five years now; you'd think I'd know better than to make a rookie mistake.
Peter let himself into the (locked!) art closet and brought out a box of glitter.
Looking out of the bedroom, I noticed the art closet was ajar. A feeling of foreboding settled in. Cue Jaws music.
The two of them poured glitter all over the living room, dining room, and playroom. It's in the carpets. It's
in the cracks of the hardwood floors. It's in the sofa. It's in the bookshelf. It's all over the toys. It's in the curtains. In between the books on the bookshelf. In the Princess's hair. In their diapers and underwear.
Basically, that side of the house looked the Glitter Fairy Armageddon. Like a Glitter Apocalypse. Like a freaking winter wonderland of glitter.
Somewhere between last week and Friday Peter had also taken it upon himself to hide all the vacuum attachments.
I vacuumed for nearly an hour. Seriously. I vacuumed every surface, but there are still random bits of glitter everywhere. The next tenant will still be cleaning up glitter.
I vacuumed the Princess's head, like a Flowbee. Judging from her reaction it did not feel like a warm massage.
I can take comfort in the thought that this will never happen again. Because I have thrown away every single art supply we own.
He is such a sweet kid. Really. He is so amenable and pleasant to have around. Ok Mom! I love you Mom! Lets do whatever you like, Mom!
He is also an imp. A daredevil. A ringleader. If my children are doing something dangerous or explicitly forbidden, dollars to donuts it was his idea.
Friday morning I had six loads of laundry to put away, so I set up Peter and Princess on the floor with an Ikea cardboard box, some washable markers and stickers and let them go to town coloring the box. I started putting away laundry. I could hear the two of them chatting away to each other. I kept looking in on them, and they were having a good time. This period of time was less than ten minutes.
My mistake was that I set them up on the floor, in front of the sofa. From the bedroom I could see the tops of their heads and that they were not killing each other. I could not actually see what they were doing. I've been doing this five years now; you'd think I'd know better than to make a rookie mistake.
Peter let himself into the (locked!) art closet and brought out a box of glitter.
Looking out of the bedroom, I noticed the art closet was ajar. A feeling of foreboding settled in. Cue Jaws music.
The two of them poured glitter all over the living room, dining room, and playroom. It's in the carpets. It's
in the cracks of the hardwood floors. It's in the sofa. It's in the bookshelf. It's all over the toys. It's in the curtains. In between the books on the bookshelf. In the Princess's hair. In their diapers and underwear.
 |
| I didn't think to take a picture until I had cleaned up most of it. Multiply this pic by 900 square feet. |
Basically, that side of the house looked the Glitter Fairy Armageddon. Like a Glitter Apocalypse. Like a freaking winter wonderland of glitter.
Somewhere between last week and Friday Peter had also taken it upon himself to hide all the vacuum attachments.
I vacuumed for nearly an hour. Seriously. I vacuumed every surface, but there are still random bits of glitter everywhere. The next tenant will still be cleaning up glitter.
I vacuumed the Princess's head, like a Flowbee. Judging from her reaction it did not feel like a warm massage.
I can take comfort in the thought that this will never happen again. Because I have thrown away every single art supply we own.
4 comments:
The person who invented glitter must be the same person who invented tinsel and Polly Pocket shoes.
Definately NOT a mom!
At least your house is all...sparkly...?
Seriously though. Completely funny in an I'm so glad that wasn't me kind of way. :-)
LMAO.
The rookie mistake in this scenario was buying the glitter in the first place ;-)
Yeah, I bought it for a Christmas art project. I should have thrown it away as soon as we were done with it. No need now, its been widely disseminated.
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