Look at this face. Sweet, cuddly, pudgy little guy. Don't let the sleepy look fool you though. He's my Snorker. Or my Baboute. Both can be loosely translated to mean "Pack of Trouble".
Today, he has given me a run for my money. I won't tell the story of the tantrum at the store. I won't get into the 2 peaches, handfuls of Bits & Bites, and 7 cherries he scarfed down in the cart. I won't even get into the suspiciously nauseating smell that was the result of the fruit feast (in the van, no less). I won't even write about how he snuck his way outside, unsupervised and visited my neighbour for ice cream and cookies while I was napping.
No, this is a different story.
This is about how, after a day of exhausted running after the 2 year old, I finally breathed a sigh of relief at how quiet he was being for once. Then, I realized that he is like a mosquitoe - quiet is bad. I ran upstairs to look for him. "Graedon? Graedon?!" And there he was. INSIDE the fireplace, covered in ashes, throwing handfuls of the stuff all over the master bedroom. MY bedroom. To his credit, he'd taken out the fireplace brush and was trying to fix the mess. It wasn't working.
Of course, I grabbed him, yelling, "No! Graedon, naughty, naughty boy!!" By this time, my pants (at Graedon level) were plastered with ashes. I stripped Graedy and stuck his clothes and my pants into the laundry. I hosed a now screaming Graedon down in the shower, put his pjs on, and settled him in with a snack so I could get down to the business of sweeping up the ashes.
Our bedroom has an outside door leading to a non-existant deck (we keep the door locked). I opened that up to empty the dustpan into the void and what do I see? Graedon! On the lawn, grinning at me, escaped again! He gives me his crinkle faced smile, yells, "No, no, Mommy!", cackles and starts to make a run for it. Knowing Richard was in the yard, I hollered, "Richard! Richard! Can you watch the little animal??!!" and then I realized.
I was screaming at the top of my lungs into our yard, in full view of our neighbours, frantically waving a broom...wearing nothing but a striped maternity top and panties.
I can never show my face in my neighbourhood again.