My Game Is Faltering

Lauren is at that scream-inducing stage where she's into everything at once. Therefore, I am at that stage where I scamper behind her, righting the house as she torments it.

Sunday morning, I cleaned up an overturned cereal box only to turn around and see that she'd emptied the bookshelf. While I shelved books, she dumped a box of Q-tips all over my bathroom floor. As I scooped those up, she plucked about 70 sheets of Kleenex from the box on my nightstand. With my back turned to refold the wadded Kleenex, she dragged her finger through my tub of lip balm before running away yelling something about SNACK! and CRACKERS!

At each new crisis, I said NO! very sternly and seriously. At each new NO! she ducked her chin to hide a naughty smile. After several attempts to curb whatever messy bent she was on, I gave up. It wasn't time for snacks, but I could no longer summon my inner disciplinarian. Lauren knew how to dig her fist into the Goldfish box - I'd let her do it if it meant I could have a moment to wipe the lip balm off the side of my nightstand.

I should have known better.

A few moments after she'd run to the kitchen, Lauren raced back to me. "Iiiiiihhhh!" she whined through puckered lips. "Eeeeeehhh! Mama mama eeeeeeeee yucky! Ishwinawa yucky!" Her little legs propelled her down the hallway while her hands rubbed at her mouth and cheeks. They were coated in coarse, black bits of some unknown substance. I had no clue what it could have been - she'd long since abandoned potting soil after tasting it a few times. It held no charm for her; I doubted she'd have tried it again.

"What is that, Lauren?" I prodded. "What did you eat?" She turned back around and marched down the hall, narrating the offense as we went. She pointed and gestured, looking for all the world like she'd been forced to ingest the mystery substance. I followed my indignant child until we reached the mess.

Loose leaf tea. Flung around the kitchen and living room floors.

The accosted box lay defeated on the carpet near a pile of tea. It had been no match for Lauren's prying fingers and had spilled its contents in various heaps around the room.

"Oh, sweetie," I frowned. "You ate dry TEA?"

At this, she babbled with relief. Still verbalizing her disbelief at being insulted with the bitter black tea, Lauren followed me to the kitchen for a washcloth and sippy cup of water. I cleaned her up and she drank deeply while I headed for the vacuum.

And that was punishment in itself. Both of my girls are scared of the vacuum: Mia's gotten over her fear for the most part, but Lauren still hides from it. I cleaned up the mess with her clinging to me.

At least with her on my hip, I could guarantee she wasn't off creating havoc in another room.

But I will say this for her: All the running around she necessitates may ease me back into my skinny jeans. Because I don't see the messes ending any time soon.