The Open Door

I don’t pay enough attention to Abbie while the boys take their morning nap. I pay plenty of attention to her the rest of the day as I make her meals, change her diapers, and pull her away from the cat before it realizes it still has its back claws. When the boys fall asleep, though, I can’t help but shut my brain off and log onto the computer, start a load of laundry, or sort bills into “third notice” and “final notice” piles. I’m not watching her, but I leave the television running, so it’s not like she’s unsupervised.

She’s usually a pretty good kid while the boys nap, and by “usually” I mean “slightly more than half of the time.” She usually watches television, plays with her toys, or hops around the living room. The other 49% of the time she’s digging into forbidden objects, climbing furniture, and scouring the refrigerator.

I put a lock on the refrigerator months ago to protect our chilled foods, but the thing isn’t 100% successful at keeping her at bay. Apparently it only works when the last person to close the refrigerator door fastens the lock. Usually I remember to attach it, but I’m a parent, and I’m usually working on 6 hours of sleep. You’d think these child-safety equipment engineers could design a parent-brain proof refrigerator lock.

I forgot to engage the lock a couple days ago. I need to take responsibility for my actions so it never happens again, but in this case I blame Ellie. It was the weekend, and she was home, which threw me off my routine. I’m ordinarily careful about things such as locks while I’m home with the kids, but Ellie must have done something distracting like talking while I was shutting the refrigerator door, and I forgot to use the lock.

I should have known Abbie was about to rummage through the refrigerator before logging onto the computer. The last I saw her, she was removing her shirt. I always pull her shirt off before she eats something potentially messy at home to save her shirt. I used to demand that she wear pants and a shirt for every meal because proper manners demand it. I quick discovered that every shirt she owned was permanently stained with at least one flavor of yogurt, and abandoned the shirt rule in the interest of preserving shirts for future garage sale revenue.

After a few minutes of important Internet research, Ellie called me into the living room. She said she needed my help cleaning up, which is a bad sign. Then she asked me to bring a fresh roll of paper towels on my way, which is a worse sign.

Ellie met me at the doorway to the living room. I handed her the paper towels, and she handed me the bowl of Jell-O she’d been snacking from. Abbie was nice enough to grab a spoon before plopping down in front of the television, and gave it an honest try before resorting to transferring gelatin into her mouth via giant, leaky, carpet-staining handfuls. As a bonus, this wasn’t the sugar-free Jell-O I ordinarily make; this was the extra-sticky, full-sugar variety I made to boost our caloric intake while battling the stomach bug of last week. It was also cherry flavored, which doesn’t blend into our carpet color as well as white grape flavor, or even lemon flavor.

I dumped the bowl in the sink and grabbed a sponge for the return trip. Ellie was busily scrubbing the carpet by the doorway, so I proceeded deeper into the living room, looking for other stains. I found a couple red stains on the couch, but more importantly I saw Abbie standing over the couch with an open ketchup bottle in her hands, squeezing its contents onto the cushions.

I quickly snatched the bottle before she could squeeze too much. Abbie used her spoon to eat it off the cushions while I asked Ellie why she didn’t take the bottle from her when she took the Jell-O. She shrugged and blamed me, not just for leaving the refrigerator unlocked, but also for putting ketchup on all my food and giving her the idea. We need to pay more attention to that girl.