Playing can be Pricey

I feel like I'm talking to myself here ... nobody reads on a Saturday. Probably because everybody else is out, like, doing stuff. But not me: it's cold and rainy here today, and Curtis is out of town (lucky him!), and my kids are playing in the baby's bedroom.

When I say "playing," it's probably more along the lines of "doing things I would disapprove of just because I can't see them." But it's quiet in here, y'all. You understand. Nine times out of ten, there's a price for quiet - you just have to pray it's a small price, and not some monumental fiasco capable of rendering you temporarily speechless. (Like this.)

The other day after a fifteen-minute stretch of "playing," I went to check on them and found that they'd dragged the old baby bathtub out of the closet. Colin had apparently instructed Cameron to pee in it. Thank goodness they had lined the bottom of it with paper towels first. ... A whole roll of paper towels.

Then there was the time they deconstructed the empty diaper pail and somehow got the baby stuck in it.

Oh, and the time they unrolled a brand-new roll of toilet paper, in its entirety, because they wanted to get the spring out of the toilet paper holder. (Apparently it was a necessary component to their "latest invention" - Lord only knows what that would've consisted of!)

There are sometimes surprises like this:

A Wow Wow Wubbzy toy and a smoke alarm. IN MY TOILET.

Or unfortunate uses of hair gel:

Sometimes it's absolutely devastating:

This would be - or used to be - the flat-screen TV in our bedroom.

And then there's the occasional mess so complicated that it requires some creative thinking, a rubber spatula, a bunch of plastic containers, and a shovel to clean up:

The contents of a brand-new bottle of laundry detergent. Apparently it was an accident, but still ...

Consider yourselves lucky I spared y'all the photos of poop tracked all. Over. The bedroom. And hallway.

So yeah. "Playing" isn't usually the quiet, well-behaved, building-a-tower-out-of-blocks-and-minding-their-own-business type of affair I desperately hope it is. But every time, I manage to delude myself into thinking that's exactly what they're doing ...

... at least until my blog post is finished. 

PS - For those who are curious? Today's "playing" consisted of a tipped-over rocking chair, the baby brandishing an ill-gotten gravy ladle, and Cameron standing in the window ... completely naked.