But the girls seem to love their shared space, so we persist. Well, okay: they actually have no choice. It's either bedroom sharing or one girl moves into the bathroom. Which I understand will happen anyway upon adolescence, so we'll forestall it as long as we can.
So the bedroom is crazy. And on days like the one in question -- a day that will live in infamy -- when Lauren is having a 'nap' alone while her sister is at Kindergarten, she seems to make a bigger mess than both girls would do together. I imagine her to be compensating for her sister's non-presence with a bit of toy-overkill.
This day, I opened the door to 'wake her up' and was met by the single WORST mess I've encountered at this point in my motherhood. Granted, nothing was oozing or bubbling or bleeding...but the toys. They blocked the door's swing so I could only peek inside helplessly.
Immediately, I saw that my sweet darling Lauren was trying to hide something. She sat crouched over a small object in the midst of the rubble, eyes wary, an excuse ready on her pretty lips. So I shoved in, worried about the stress on the door's hinges from my super-mom strength (hee), to discover the object of her secrecy.
And that's when I realized that the mess was the least of our problems.
For there, in her perfectly formed and innocently soft hand was a pair of red-handled, preschool scissors.
It's true. She cannot be trusted with scissors. Not that I allowed her to have them in the first place, only I wish I knew when and how she'd snuck them into her
And I'll tell you the sad, sad truth:
It was ALL I could to to keep a straight face while explaining the consequences of her illegal activity.
My mouth simply would not stay stern.
This one is going to keep me on my toes.
And I love her to little bitty bits.
Now, tell me: should we go with bangs? Or a super short and sassy bob? Because we lost our time machine in all the mess of the bedroom, so there ain't no goin' back...