Friday, December 3, 2010

Bejeweled Blitz: Parenting Fail

My youngest daughter just turned 2. My life now has one central purpose: DO NOT TAKE YOUR EYES OFF THE TWO YEAR OLD. She is the tornado to my trailer park. She is a climbing, smashing, splashing, oft- naked, daredevil fire-starting, putter of things in her mouth and up her nose. She is by far the wiliest and most crafty of all my three children and impossibly cute. She is a precious little cupcake baked by the devil.  And I am totally outmatched.

She recently developed a new hobby – peeling crayons. I encourage this hobby for three reasons: (1) Peeling crayons really causes no damage to anything. I mean, even without the label – you can still see what color it is. In fact, you can see it better. (2) It keeps her quiet and out of trouble (3) I can get a 24 count box of crayons for about 25 cents (with a coupon, of course) and for the peace and quiet it buys me – I would pay one hundred million times that price.

Last week, she found a nice sunny spot next to the dining room table and plopped down with a box of Crayolas. I loaded the dishwasher. She had created a nice pile of wrappers. I poured a cup of coffee. She was now happily selecting a new green one.  I quickly went to the bathroom. She was putting the peeled crayons under the table, playing quietly.

It was bliss.

And so I did something very stupid. I sat at the table two feet from my daughter, and I opened my laptop and went to Facebook. I looked at some updates and then looked at Mini-mini-me. She was happy as a clam, peeling and shredding. So I started to play my very favorite game in the whole wide world: Bejeweled Blitz. If you are a fellow Bejeweled addict, you understand. If you’ve never played this game – thank your lucky stars and listen to your Auntie Lydia and NEVER EVER start.

Also, Auntie Lydia has learned the hard way – as you will soon read – that it is not advisable to do certain things and safely supervise small children. Here’s a short list: play Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook, read UsWeekly or People magazines, drink Jack Daniels directly from the bottle (okay, that never happened with children present), practice your knife throwing act, watch True Blood.

Each game lasts 60 seconds. I played one game. Mini was under the table, sweetly peeling crayons. I played another game. She was shredding and cooing in a sunbeam like a little angel. I played again, and she was gone.

Aw shizz.

“Mini? Mini, honey – where are you?”

An adorable little voice trilled back to me: “Mashing!”


I found her in the middle of the kitchen floor with an 18-pack of eggs. 17 of them had been smashed in between her fat little hands and then tossed around the room. The 18th was in her little claws. As I screamed: “NOOOOOOO! Baby – stooooopp iiiittttt!” in slow motion, I watched her smash the egg and then try to grab the yolk in mid-air to shove in her mouth like a squishy yellow weasel treat.  Mmmmmm.

I looked at her face –it was covered with yellow slime. Dear God, how many of them has she eaten? It was in her hair. In her eyes. It was all over her clothes. And do any of you fine people have an idea how much floor space 18 smashed eggs can cover? It was epic.

It all occurred in the 60 seconds it took me to play one more game of Bejeweled. It was 8:16 am.

PS: Despite my fear of a salmonella outbreak, the next morning found my daughter bright eyed and fever free.  And ready to raid the refrigerator - again.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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