We have a mad scientist on the loose

Our dear Peanut, aka Meaghan, has earned a new nickname. We now call her the Mad Scientist.

First, there were the Q-tips. Sean had bathed Meaghan and gotten her dressed in her PJs. He had gotten Margaret deposited in the tub for her round of cleaning. He stepped out of the bathroom for a few moments.

When he returned, he found an entire, almost-full, box of Q-tips floating in the water. Apparently, Meaghan wanted to see if they floated. (They do, by the way.)

Then there was the shredder. I had finally cleared off the teetering piles on my desk, which involved a lot of shredding. Meaghan was eager to help me shred. I let her assist me, telling her that shredding was something you should only do with Mommy.

Yes, this story is going exactly in the direction you think.

Go forward about a week to a day where I had received an important document in the mail. It required my signature and a witness, so I set it on what I thought was a safe place. The top of my desk.

I guess I was having a stupid Mommy moment, because things have been growing legs and walking away from desk for weeks now. Especially the stapler and the tape. Usually, the legs were about 2 years old.

I guess because it was a piece of paper, I thought it was safe. Wrong!

I returned later in the day to find nothing but the envelope sitting where the paper used to be. I asked (calmly, I thought) where the paper was. The older two very quickly answered in the negative. No ignoring me until I ask 3 times. Quick, succinct answers. Maybe there was something in the tone of my voice? Or have I inherited the hairy eyeball from my mother?

I finally got out of Meaghan that she had seen the papers. I also heard something about the shredder. Yup, you guessed it. Gone. I was really peeved for several hours. Even wine didn't help.

I emailed the sender of said paper and contritely asked for the verbiage after explaining how poorly a 2 year old and a shredder mix. Thankfully, she also has a 2 year old, so she was very understanding.

That helped my mood a lot. That and the realization that I was the dummy that left the shredder turned on. What can you do? Learn from your mistakes. I hope.

Which leads me to the final story in the Mad Scientist chapter. A lesson for my dear husband.

As a special treat, we infrequently let our children bathe in our large garden tub in the master bathroom. Margaret & "MS" were enjoying some playtime in the big tub while Sean surfed the net in our bedroom. He raced to the bathroom when "MS" began to shriek. Apparently, she had gotten soap into her eyes.

That sounds pretty innocuous, right? Baths usually involve soap. Well, there weren't any bars of soap nearby.

Turns out that "MS" & Margaret had found (and emptied) a few bottles of bubble bath. They shampooed their hair. And washed the tub. And the counter around the tub. Sean got to clean the girls AND the bath tub that night.

I'm also betting I'm getting some new bottles of bubble bath for a stocking stuffer this Christmas.