A Bad Deed

One piece of advice that is routinely given to new mothers, babysitters and grandparents is that if the house is too quiet, a disaster is brewing. Such was the case with Ezra a few weeks ago. I was scurrying about, cleaning out cupboards and closets, focused on getting my home ready to proudly display to perspective buyers. I was making such progress, or so I thought. I realized that the house was silent and it was tempting to scrub on, taking advantage of the moment, but I eyed Ezra's door closed, which drew my attention. By the time I pried open the locked door, Ezra had stashed his evidence, which was an empty bottle of bright red fingernail polish. However, what could not be hidden were the quarter sized crimson stains marking a path from his door into the center of his room.

Ezra immediately knew that he had a mad mom. (Fortunately it was a veteran mad mom who happened to have removed bright red fingernail polish before.) I knew I would laugh later, so I grabbed the camera. Then I brought in the scissors and carefully cut the tops off of each strand of carpet that had been doused in the paint. Several hours later, when I was wiping the last polish from the furniture, Ezra showed me the real disaster. He had taken the remaining polish and dumped it down the front of the house. Blood red streaks ran from the top story to the foundation. It is amazing how much damage a small bottle of crimson red fingernail polish can do.

*This reminded me of the time we put our house up for sale in Millcreek. Hours before the sign was to be pounded into the dirt, Annelise painted herself black and ran around the house, doing somersaults and cartwheels on our new basement carpet and freshly cleaned white carpet upstairs. Stains can still be seen in the current photos of the house! I am indeed a veteran mother.