No, you have not heard the last of it. I have at least two more Halloween related posts to come. I’m tempted to spew them all out at once. The thing that’s holding me back is the fear that I’ll find myself in the middle of NaBloPoMo with nothing to say and curse the day I shamelessly squandered valuable posts.
Anyway, here goes.
This is a story of of mischief, a story of discipline, a story of parenting brilliance turned sour.
Wednesday I was working away finishing up the New One’s Butterfly costume. I painted the second side of the wings, rinsed my brush and went in search of the glue gun. After quitting the craft closet empty handed, I sat down at the computer to vent my frustration and come up with a glue gun free method of attaching the wings to the baby.
While I was occupied on the computer, Baby Girl sneaked into the sewing room, (or office or what ever you want to call it) snitched my paints and brush and took them to her own little table where she proceeded to undertake an unauthorized art project of her own.
Meanwhile, the butterfly wings dried and I was ready to put the finishing white dots along their edges, but now I couldn’t find my paints.
Deciding I must have forgotten the dots and put the paints away when I finished the black edges, I went back to the glue gunless closet, this time in search of paint. It wasn’t there.
Now I noticed my missing brush. “Maybe I left it by the sink” thought I, but the brush wasn’t by the sink.
I looked around for a few minutes, long enough to get thoroughly frustrated again, before I noticed the absence of my Baby Girl beside me, begging explanations of my every move and to watch another show. Then I looked down and saw that on the floor in front of my ironing board (the only semi clear space I’d found to paint on) was Lizzie the Elephant.
And I knew exactly where I’d find my paints and brush.
I decided that as recompense for her naughtiness (she knew darn well that my paints were off limits) she wouldn’t be allowed to have any of the candy she gathered at the trunk-or-treat we were to attend that night. She could go and collect all the candy she wanted, but she’d never eat any of it.
I thought my plan was brilliant. Severe enough that she’d think twice before snitching my supplies again, but not awful, since she’d be trick-or-treating two days later.
Besides all of that, I’d been trying to decide what to do with two nights worth of Halloween candy anyway. I really didn’t want her to have that much. This was a perfect opportunity to subtract half the candy from the equation.
She very obediently refrained from eating any candy that night. She acted sorry for the painting incident, whenever she saw a reminder of it she’d say, solemnly, “Mama, I’m sorry I sneaked your paints, that was not ok for me to do.”
She said it when she saw the picture of the butterfly wings on the computer screen, she said it as she batted the balloon she’d autographed across the room, she said it as she presented me with the painting her mischief produced.
The Next day she asked if she could have her candy now. “No,” I said, “you don’t get to have that candy”
“Can I have it tomorrow?”
“No, you don’t ever get it.”
That never sunk in. She continued to wonder when she would be allowed access to the candy.
Then came Halloween and off we went trick-or-treating. When she came home with just four sad pieces of candy, I began to soften. After all she really had been good about the confiscated candy. So, I let her have it.
I backed down, but I think it was reasonable, so I’m ok with it.
I still need new paints though, she mixed all the colors. What a mess!