Rosie -- The "da Vinci of Destruction" or the "Rembrandt of Wreckage"
My darling daughter has a mischievous side -- perhaps even a nasty side -- that is long overdue for a spot on the blog. Usually, I try to laugh off her naughty episodes by taking a picture (see below). That said, I promise these pictures in no way represent the real damage she has done to herself, to me, to our house, and to enumerable pieces of furniture. Furthermore, these pictures also cannot represent how I felt each time it happened. Some of them I'm still trying to laugh about; however, some of them still make my blood boil.
So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, here is the evidence.
A pretend kitchen toy sink with pretend dishes -- pretty normal, right? What you can't see, however, is that Rosie emptied an entire bottle of lotion on the dishes, counter, inside the cupboards, and carpet. She claimed that she just needed "some soap to wash the dishes with." Right.
Rosie loves yogurt. And usually I'm keen on letting her indulge her love (after all, I'm a yogurt-lover as well). However, I usually let her have only one yogurt at a time -- and usually it's the generic brand, not my designer yogurt with special bacteria that is supposed to help pregnant adults stay regular. As you can imagine, three-year-olds don't need help being regular. Let's just say that following this episode, we had a child with a red bottom for the next 24 hours.
One day I came up to my bedroom only to find that she had pulled back my bed covers, used permanent marker to "decorate" the pretty sheets, and then pulled out the blue play dough to finish off her creation. These sheets were thrown away. By the way, those pink boots were her favorite -- and believe me, they were, as the song says, "boots made for walking, and that's just what they'll do." Practically every day, those boots walked all over me.
While in Germany, we hiked a castle tower to get to the look-out. It had over 280 stairs. Rosie decided that her shirt made her hot and so she took it off. (Wiley had done the same.) Since we were the odd ones out already, I didn't protest. (Besides, we were in Europe -- the land of Speedos and nude beaches, right?) This is Rosie making her "Ariel" pose a couple hundred feet above ground.
Rosie has the will of a full-grown adult. Wiley has learned when to submit to the master (me) but Rosie will just go on and on if only to make a small point. She went through a short phase where she just wouldn't sleep on her bed. She wanted to sleep on the floor. Ben and I would just put her back in bed once she feel asleep. But even in her drunken sleepiness, she still managed to find her way back to the floor by morning time.
Rosie knows that makeup is absolutely off-limits. I know she knows this because she locks the door when she tries to apply it. One time when I knocked on her door she hid in the closet. I had to use a Q-tip to get in only to discover she had been playing chemistry set with my powder makeup. She was mixing and pouring colors together. The carpet will never be the same. This also might explain why I can't ever get my makeup to look right . . .
Have you ever seen a laptop with the keys off of it? One devilishly delightfully afternoon, Rosie, with the help of her cousin, Afton, managed to peel-off the keys on Ben's laptop in record time. Moments later (seriously, it was less than three minutes), I found them sitting on my bed throwing the keys and springs across the room. I screamed. I gasped. And then I spanked. (Honestly, wouldn't you?) Ben spent over two hours hours reassembling the keyboard with a pair of tiny tweezers. Amazingly, all but two keys made it through the delicate reconstructive surgery.
This is Rosie's version of tiger stripes. No more explanation is needed.
This is a piece from Rosie's abstract expressionism phase. Like Pollack, she likes large canvases (such as the walls of her bedroom). Anyhow, these were Crayola washable markers so with a lot of wet wipes and lots of elbow grease (mostly Rosie's), we eventually got things cleaned up.
What is going on here you might ask? Well, not long ago I was shopping in the unmentionable section with my mom and sisters. We were all trying on new bras and Rosie wouldn't take no for an answer. She went out of the dressing room and picked out the prettiest pink bra she could find. Only she didn't call them bras -- they were "swimsuits." She proceeded to disrobe and try-on the "swimsuit." Later, she even went as far as to try on a g-string, but it was so huge she had it up over her shoulders. I took a picture of that, too, but I thought I'd spare you and her that image on the blog -- at least for now. But don't worry, I'll use it when I have to later in life.
There are countless other moments, some of which I have photographed, some I have not. All are crazy moments. I can't possibly be the only parent having these laughable, scream-able moments, right? Please tell me I'm not alone. Also, if you have any carpet cleaning tips or wall cleaning tips I'd like those as well. Oh, yeah, how do you get ball point pen ink out of leather chairs? Or what about dry-erase marker out of wooden headboard? Help, help, help.
If nothing else, you can understand our trepidation about having another daughter in a few months, right?
