Pssssssssshhhhtttt
Being a parent makes me forgetful. Whether it’s forgetfulness caused the sleep-deprivation, or the sheer amount of minutia I have to remember about the kids’ lives, I’m constantly forgetting things. I forget where Abbie left her shoes. I forget to set the DVR to record Dora. I forget to empty the diaper pail, although that honestly might have more to do with procrastination.
Maybe most distressingly, I forget that I left food on the countertop. Fortunately, the kids are always quick to remind me that food is within their reach, but I don’t always intercept them in time to prevent disgusting and/or wasteful behavior. If I leave the peanut butter out, Abbie grabs a spoon and digs into the jar. If I leave a cereal box out, one of the boys will dump its contents onto the floor for ease in picking out the marshmallow pieces. If I leave a bag of chocolate chips out, the kids will simultaneously reach their hands into the bag, tearing it open and sending a chocolate chip hailstorm flying across the room.
That’s all very messy, but Abbie hit a new high in the messiness quotient tonight when she found an unopened can of root beer. We usually keep soda pop in the house since, as mentioned above, we’re sleep-deprived and need the caffeine. Most of our soda pop is diet since I pick up enough extra calories cleaning the kids’ dinner plates. This can of root beer was full of fructose, and part of a dozen cans likely left over from the last time we entertained people.*. We were saving it until the next time we entertained,** but the boys found it’s hiding place.
We hide all soda pop in the laundry room. The laundry room is right off the kitchen, providing easy access when I need to load a 12-pack into the refrigerator after a rough day. The laundry room also has a door with a child-resistant knob, meaning the kids can’t enter the room unless someone foolishly leaves the door open. About a week ago, I foolishly left the laundry room door open, and I’ve been finding cans of root beer hidden throughout the house ever since.
Abbie found this can at the top of the steps. I probably saw that can hundreds of times too, but it never registered as something I should bother moving. The can was still sealed, and at any given moment I usually have a fight to break up or a container of food to move from someone’s reach.
Abbie quickly realized this can was still closed. Frustrated that the syrupy goodness was sealed behind a mysterious pull-tab, she threw the can down the stairs. When it hit the landing halfway down the steps, the can ruptured and the soda pop, aided by the agitated carbonation, spewed forth. Before I could reach the can, the root beer geyser shot several feet away, covering the floor, the walls, and the many toys that had collected on the landing and I had seen thousands of times but they’d never registered as something I should bother moving.
I’m fond of waiting to clean messes until I have more time, such as after the children all leave for college, but I immediately worked on cleaning this one so the sugar wouldn’t have time to set. While I toiled, Abbie stayed at a distance, possibly because she knew she was in trouble, or maybe she just wanted to admire her handiwork from afar. I needed a tub of dishwater to scrub the floors and walls, and a roll of paper towels for the carpet on the landing that was somehow simultaneously stiff enough to puncture aluminum and absorbent enough to soak up several fluid ounces. I spent a half-hour wiping every nearby surface and discovering new messes that I could swear the can would’ve need to violate the laws of physics to soak. After I had finished, I longed for the days when the worst Abbie could do was dump a box of cereal on the floor; that I only need a vacuum to clean.
* Which was probably the boys’ birthday.
** Which will probably be Abbie’s birthday.
Maybe most distressingly, I forget that I left food on the countertop. Fortunately, the kids are always quick to remind me that food is within their reach, but I don’t always intercept them in time to prevent disgusting and/or wasteful behavior. If I leave the peanut butter out, Abbie grabs a spoon and digs into the jar. If I leave a cereal box out, one of the boys will dump its contents onto the floor for ease in picking out the marshmallow pieces. If I leave a bag of chocolate chips out, the kids will simultaneously reach their hands into the bag, tearing it open and sending a chocolate chip hailstorm flying across the room.
That’s all very messy, but Abbie hit a new high in the messiness quotient tonight when she found an unopened can of root beer. We usually keep soda pop in the house since, as mentioned above, we’re sleep-deprived and need the caffeine. Most of our soda pop is diet since I pick up enough extra calories cleaning the kids’ dinner plates. This can of root beer was full of fructose, and part of a dozen cans likely left over from the last time we entertained people.*. We were saving it until the next time we entertained,** but the boys found it’s hiding place.
We hide all soda pop in the laundry room. The laundry room is right off the kitchen, providing easy access when I need to load a 12-pack into the refrigerator after a rough day. The laundry room also has a door with a child-resistant knob, meaning the kids can’t enter the room unless someone foolishly leaves the door open. About a week ago, I foolishly left the laundry room door open, and I’ve been finding cans of root beer hidden throughout the house ever since.
Abbie found this can at the top of the steps. I probably saw that can hundreds of times too, but it never registered as something I should bother moving. The can was still sealed, and at any given moment I usually have a fight to break up or a container of food to move from someone’s reach.
Abbie quickly realized this can was still closed. Frustrated that the syrupy goodness was sealed behind a mysterious pull-tab, she threw the can down the stairs. When it hit the landing halfway down the steps, the can ruptured and the soda pop, aided by the agitated carbonation, spewed forth. Before I could reach the can, the root beer geyser shot several feet away, covering the floor, the walls, and the many toys that had collected on the landing and I had seen thousands of times but they’d never registered as something I should bother moving.
I’m fond of waiting to clean messes until I have more time, such as after the children all leave for college, but I immediately worked on cleaning this one so the sugar wouldn’t have time to set. While I toiled, Abbie stayed at a distance, possibly because she knew she was in trouble, or maybe she just wanted to admire her handiwork from afar. I needed a tub of dishwater to scrub the floors and walls, and a roll of paper towels for the carpet on the landing that was somehow simultaneously stiff enough to puncture aluminum and absorbent enough to soak up several fluid ounces. I spent a half-hour wiping every nearby surface and discovering new messes that I could swear the can would’ve need to violate the laws of physics to soak. After I had finished, I longed for the days when the worst Abbie could do was dump a box of cereal on the floor; that I only need a vacuum to clean.
* Which was probably the boys’ birthday.
** Which will probably be Abbie’s birthday.
posted by Matt at
11:21 PM
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