I try. Really, I do. But I can’t have my eye on the little man at all times. Occasionally I need to be in the other room, say, preparing his meals in the kitchen while he destroys the living room. Often my super mom hearing saves the day. Or at least delivers me to the scene of the crime, just after the fact. Like yesterday, when a big clang and crash brought me in to find he’d been pulling window treatments off their windows. Or when he twists the lock on the bathroom door before slamming it shut, then wandering away. The quieter crimes sometimes go unnoticed for a while. Like when he’s been unplugging appliances from their outlets, or cramming the PS2 IR receiver unit (for the DVD player remote control) into our VCR, or peeling the patches from large holes in some of our window screens…thus allowing multitudes of mosquitoes unfettered access to our flesh (I’m actually looking forward to first freeze). But some, quiet though they may be, are more blatant. Today I headed downstairs after my shower and was greeted with an innocent “oh, hi mom”…with the evidence of his actions handily surrounding him. He was standing next to the table upon which lay a sculpture he’d made, solely using a spool of scotch tape. And he’d made an art piece of himself…coloring not only his legs, but his green shirt with orange marker. Very vibrant. Not a subtle bone in the boy’s body. Wonder where he gets that from?
