finger painting with yogurt...an unplanned family activity

   Yesterday, I decided to shop for the perfect birthday outfit for the princess of destruction.  I was surfing the net, checking my favorite children's clothes sites, hoping for something to speak to me.  Colin was playing "Space Birds" and Molly was watching some PBS.  I had that false sense of security that they were both occupied.  Molly came into the kitchen, with a step stool in hand, opened the refrigerator, pulled out a yogurt, got a spoon, and handed all of these items to me with a simple "open please?"  I opened the yogurt, and handed it back with out a worry in my mind.  Molly is fabulous with a spoon.  She makes less mess than her older brother, and I am almost positive it is because she respects that food is yummy, and shouldn't be wasted. Off she toddles on her mission, and I am back to bouncing between Gymboree and Etsy, wondering if someone would have enough time to custom make a third birthday outfit, and get it shipped to me.  I finally decide on the birthday girl outfit that Gymboree had available, click it into my shopping cart, and enter all of the needed payment information.  I go from the computer to the coffee pot, and then finally into the living room.  As  I look around, I sigh and shake my head.  I wish I had thought to take a picture for this post.  Molly had decided to have a little arts and crafts session while I was busy planning her wardrobe.  She was covered in yogurt from head to toe.  The TV was smeared with a finger painting session that would have made Van Gogh proud.  I found yogurt in every corner of my living room.  I even found yogurt matted in the dog's fur.  As usual, Molly had attempted to engage the dog as her partner in crime.  Those two work together frequently.  Abby knows where her bread is buttered, and sticks close when there is food involved.  Abby has even pulled a box of pizza off the counter, and I have found the two of them splitting the pizza while sitting on the kitchen floor together.  The plan works in her favor, until she is covered in cheese dip or yogurt.  Then she just comes to me with her basset hound eyes, and looks at me as if to say "do you see what your puppy did to me now??"  Once again, I am reminded of how she earned her nick name.  After a long 8 hour shift at the hospital last night, Mike greeted me at the door, and told me we were out of garlic and onion powder.  I simply said "Ok, I will pick some up the next time I am at Publix."  Mike "Don't you want to know why?" Me "nope, I am going to bed."  This morning, I noticed Molly's "wankie(her word for blankie)" reeks of garlic and onions.  Perhaps I will ask for the whole story this evening. Until then, hopefully I will be able to get wankie away long enough for a quick trip through the spin cycle