








Like any veteran mommy, I am chock-a-block with ideas for keeping children occupied and engaged (read: out of my hair for three seconds at a stretch). Some of my favorites include:
Clean-up! Hand over a spray bottle filled with water and a dishtowel, and point child toward fridge, patio, sidewalk, whatever. Give permission to come back when child sees own reflection in each surface.
Car wash! Put out buckets of warm, sudsy water, sponges, and any toy vehicles on the premises. Get the hell out of the way. If you’re feeling especially adventurous or need an extra 30 minutes, turn on the hose and leave it handy.
Chef’s surprise! Set out bowls, spatulas, whisks, water, oatmeal, whatever, and let them go to town whipping up meals of their own. I was substantially impressed with this one when I came home the other day and found the boys making “oatmeal cookies” with water, instant oatmeal, and whipped cream. No baking required! They tasted like shit, though.
Jam session! Dig out every plastic and metal bowl, pot, pan, dish you own, turn them all upside down on the kitchen floor, hand out wooden spoons, and get ready to boogie! Or, grab a book and retreat to the hammock in the back yard!
So, I thought I was being clever when I handed my three-year old a bowl of soapy water and a sponge and asked if he wanted to help scrub down the butcher block peninsula in the kitchen. I wandered off for a few minutes, humming to myself and thinking lofty thoughts. Five minutes later, Dylan came tumbling out to announce that they were finished! And that they had cleaned the floor as well! And used lots of soap! Logan was busily smearing the viscous mess back and forth with a dishtowel, beaming with pride at his industry.
My heart sank. “OK! Wow, guys! Thanks! All done! Scoot!” Fuck. The butcher block was swimming in water and bubbles, as was the address book, the answering machine, the savings bonds newly arrived for each child as gifts from my father, and the linen-clad bill organizer (damn you for tempting me, Martha Stewart, damn you!). There on the floor was a similar pool of water, plus the pump-bottle of Sunlight concentrated dish soap, down about two inches. Under the barstools, a river was forming, fed by rivulets of soapy waterfalls cascading off the edge of the counter. Jesus wept.
I fetched a bucket and got it all mopped up, though it took a while. But when I was done, that floor was clean.
Two additional notes: that same three-year-old who so industrially soaped the counter top was sent to the living room to watch Thomas the Train while I cleaned up, whereupon he promptly fell asleep and peed all over the couch. And then, not 30 seconds ago as I sat here typing, I heard a loud ker-plop! and a fffffffiiiiiizzzzzzz in the kitchen. It sounded exactly like a dropped bottle of beer, spinning in circles and spraying its contents in a glorious arc…
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03.07.04 at 06:25 PM |
Always let the toast dropped jelly side down to harden for that added extra slip prevention. Sweeping is good, floor cleaning is a no no. Tights without shoes is a ER visit waiting to happen.
Our kitchen floor is like the floor of movie theater. No danger of slippage.
Let the beer dry, viola damage control.
03.07.04 at 07:12 PM |
oh man… that just brought back memories of my 4 year old deciding to help me “clean the floor” and spraying comet with bleach all over the new carpet.
03.08.04 at 04:22 AM |
lol...so was it really a beer?
03.08.04 at 04:47 AM |
Oh, yes. It surely was. I didn’t get up to help, however.
03.08.04 at 08:34 AM |
Oh no! Were you able to salvage the papers and stuff that were um...cleaned?
This reminds me so much of the kids who I have nannied the past 5 years. Oui...I have some stooorrriieesss. One of them having to do with a velcro diaper whom the youngest had figured out how to take off at the exact moment she had a bout with diareah. Yeah...it was horrible.
03.09.04 at 11:25 AM |
You forgot “Watering the plants” for summertime R & R, while you supervise from said hammock.
What is it about children and hose pipes? Our neighbour in England has a severely autistic seven-year old, whose passion this summer was watering holes in the ground. He could keep himself happily occupied while she chatted for half an hour, without once running away. Perfect entertainment.