Yesterday I was in the playroom with Connor and Siobhan. Connor and I were doing a puzzle, and Siobhan was coloring on the floor in a coloring book with a blue marker. It was such a sweet, nice moment. Connor and I have never done a puzzle together. This one had 750 pieces. That's not frustrating at all to a perfectionist with ADHD. Him, not me.
Actually, we had a good time. While we did that, my precious three year old was lying on the floor coloring in a big giant Dora coloring book. Such a sweet, sweet moment.
It lasted about five minutes.
I really should have known better. After ten years of parenting, I should really have expected something to change. That's the fun of parenting I guess; little surprises all day long.
I turned my attention away from the puzzle for a moment and turned to look at Siobhan. When I turned I saw this:
And there's plenty more, but it all involves demonstrating how unclean my rug is. Let's focus on the marker shall we?
I turned to my darling baby and I asked her if she had colored on the rug.
"NO"! She told me, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe. "I don't color on floors!" She said.
Just in case you weren't paying attention, let's review the facts here.
1) Siobhan was coloring in a giant coloring book on the floor.
2) Siobhan was using a blue marker.
3) Siobhan was the only person with a marker.
4) No one else was in the room, except for me and Connor.
5) We were doing a puzzle.
So, as you can see, while I didn't see her color on the rug, it seems reasonable to assume she colored on the rug. (Don't go spouting off about what happens when you "assume". I do that on my own enough already). (I mean make an ass of myself, not spout off about assuming things....)
When I asked her again, she said no way, it was her friend Genevieve. When Genevieve was over at her house to play, she colored on the rug. (Way to throw your friends under the bus there kid; let's hope you don't need to cash in any favors....)
Unless Genevieve has some sort of special time machine, which brought her to my house, allowed her to color on the rug, and then zipped her back to her house in mere moments, well... we'd have different problems.
Actually, if that were the case, I think we'd have pure awesomeness. A three year old with a time machine? My gosh. The things she could be capable of.
I think the first place I'd visit is the afternoon of 2nd grade where I lost that epic spit fight with Eric. Yes, yes I would. I'd load my pockets up with water balloons and I'd take the time machine back to that awful day. I'd pound Eric with water balloons. So. Many. Water balloons. This time, I wouldn't go home with loogie's in my hair, no siree.
That must be it. My darling daughter is obviously not capable of coloring all over the floor and then lying about it. No no no no no. Obviously, we have a time machine and a genius three year old to go find.