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Yesterday I
was pulled between my computer (writing), the demands of dog ownership and motherhood.
I was enjoying a good pace of words being planted on the screen with some
interruptions by the dog to be let out because he forgot to pee again. My kiddo
was also harassing me to print more pictures of My Little Pony to colour.
Then she
wasn’t. I knew she was upstairs because I could hear the pitter pattering of
her elephant stomps. My sudden aloneness opened an opportunity for me to
acquire a pony from my top-secret stash. I have been negligent in my producing
My Little Ponies in celebration of her continuing to not traumatize us with her
shit antics. I figured that I had a good opportunity to go downstairs to the
place they are stored and grab the one she picked out.
I nervously
went downstairs and approached the box with the stash of ponies. Usually, Wade
is home distracting her and not having him there was nerve wracking. My back
was to the door and I couldn’t hear her on the main floor. I was in the clear,
but she has been known to sneak up on me like the little Ninja she is. I went
about my business quickly, pulling the pony of her desire out and replacing
everything so as not to show any evidence of disturbance lest someone becomes
snoopy.
My heart
was pounding. I had a rush like I had just got away with something. I had
successfully maintained the security and secrecy of the herd. I quickly shut
the door and listened. I heard the deafening sound of nothing. I started
upstairs, quietly, since I had to get this pony to my bathroom to clean the
years of grime off of her. Plus, she is still unaware of the direction from
which they come.
I made it
stealthily to my bedroom on the top floor. I looked around the corner to ensure
she was nowhere in sight. Her door was closed. I quickly walked to the bathroom
off my bedroom. I turned the corner and what should greet me? A Magic Bag on
the lid of the toilet. Thankfully the lid was down and the Magic Bag and its
innards were dry. Then my gaze passed to the counter. There, standing open was
an eyeshadow a pallet from Sephora. The pads of make-up gouged and powderier
than they should be. A closer inspection showed that the eyeliner which
accompanied the set had its lid off and was wedged in the hinge between the lid
and fully molested eyeshadow. It looked as though the eyeliner had been used as
an applicator. This should be interesting.
“Adriana!”
No response. I blew off the powder, replaced the lid on the eyeliner and closed
the lid of the make up with a satisfying click. I put the makeup away and
rinsed out the mess in the sink. I still didn’t hear her moving around. There
was only one place she could be. I prowled around the corner into my room. No
beauty queens here. Into the hallway I stalked. Still no beauty queen. I took a
deep breath and opened her door.
There she
was. Cocooned in her purple and black striped comforter. Little face poking
out. I could see that there was some effort made with the eyeliner. Laughing,
at my little larva, I pulled her out of bed.
“Come here
so I can take a picture of you.” She reluctantly followed to the stairwell with
natural lighting. “OK, give me a smile.” She did. Then we had a conversation
about not getting into my bathroom with the makeup. This was quickly followed
by her eyeliner doodles being gently scrubbed off her face with a microfiber
makeup remover cloth.
Moral of
this story, if it’s too quiet and peaceful, something is obviously up. In other
parenting news; well duh.
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