The other day, my sister and brother-in-law needed some help with kid coverage. So, I offered to help. I figured it would be easy enough because their oldest would be at school and Luke would be at his classes at Moog. Anna and my nephew, Sam, are 7 months apart and play well together. Piece of cake, I thought. Famous last words…
It all started out innocently enough. The pair played with toys on the main level of my sister’s house. Then, they moved upstairs to play ‘sleep’. Each of them took turns pretending to sleep in a bed. Then they took turns sleeping in the same bed. They were loving it. When that got old, they moved back to the main level to watch an episode of ‘Paw Patrol’. That’s a fave among those two. Our playdate was winding down when they decided to go to the playroom in the basement. Now, I’ve been to the playroom at my sister’s house. I knew it was fine for them to play by themselves. That’s what we always do when we are over there. So, off they went – bounding down the stairs – to happily play in the playroom.
My brother-in-law returns home about 30 minutes later. Anna comes to the main level and I notice something green all over her pants, face, and hands. Sam came up holding a pair of child scissors. I took the scissors from Sam and ask her what was all over her, knowing that it’s probably a marker. I then ask her what she was drawing on, saying a silent but fierce prayer that it was on paper. We all know that Anna can be quite the little artist. Fearfully, I headed downstairs with my brother-in-law. Sure enough, there was markers and crayons all over the walls. I mean, everywhere. I was mortified. It’s one thing for my child to draw or paint on my walls. It’s another thing for her and her cousin to do it to someone else’s home. As it turns out, my sister recently decided to put craft supplies out on the playroom table to help foster creativity. Job well done, I’d say.
I profusely apologized and told my brother-in-law that we’d help him clean the walls and repaint as we were heading out the door to pick up Luke. As I was buckling Anna in her seat, I noticed some hair that was down by the bottom buckle. It seemed strange because her hair isn’t long enough to reach. I tugged on the hair, and to my amazement, one lock of curls pulled away with my hand. I gasped. About an hour later, I received a picture text from my brother-in-law. As he was surveying the damage, he noticed a lone curl laying on the floor. Does this count as Anna’s first haircut?
An eye for an eye, right? Or perhaps a wall for a handful of hair? Either way, I’m taking all inquiries for babysitting. I promise I’m responsible, at least mostly responsible. Sister – do we want to put the next sitting gig on the calendar now? Or should we wait for the new paint to dry on the walls?