The Good Idea Fairy

Remind me again that I'm
buckled in. I dare you.

The Good Idea Fairy loves my children. So much, in fact, that she visits them almost daily. You'd think that with more than five times their life experience combined, I would be able to stay ahead of the crazy ideas that manifest themselves in their little brains. Apparently not. Thus I present to you The Ways in Which My Children Have Outsmarted Me--all true, with an overwhelming majority carried out in the two seconds I wasn't looking.

There are your standard good ideas, of course, like the pencil/crayon/marker that didn't make it back to into the Bin of Safekeeping and instead became a medium for the mural on the wall. I'm still erasing pencil marks which I continue to find throughout the main floor and stairwell. Thankfully the wall can be reclaimed; the hand-made embroidered white placemat from my mother-in-law which met its match with the orange crayon was not so lucky. The power of dirt is another common attraction. Regardless of how many times I issue the reminder that dirt is off-limits, I can count on Marie turning my flowerbeds into "ant homes" every time.  And shortly after outfitting our breakfast bar with some bar stools, the very same culprit who decorated the walls discovered he could reach my
newly-planted indoor spice garden from the bar stool. Of course this discovery occurred minutes before we were to depart on a trip. Like a scene from one of those vacuum commercials where the potted plant dumps all over the carpet, down went the spices. I'm still half wondering if I'll see some oregano sprouting through the carpet one of these days...

Other good ideas just require some cunning and deception. Like my little monkey boy climbing the pantry shelves to get to the sweet cereal. Or the day that I discovered two little partners in crime reprogramming the TiVo. Or the time they decided I needed some motivation to vacuum the house and generously sprinkled an entire canister of powdered carpet freshener onto the foyer and hall carpet. They must have realized the error of their ways with that one, because by the time they were discovered, they'd also gotten out the broom, dust pan, and brush in an effort to relocate their mess to the kitchen trash can. They only succeeded in turning the black trash can white and powdering every step of their journey there and back--we had a very fresh smelling house that week.

The Good Idea Fairy also has blessed Erik with some excellent escape artistry. (His little brother unfortunately appears to be following in his footsteps). Erik, like many two-and-a-half-year-olds, has shown little desire to remain in his room at nap time. During one naptime adventure, we discovered him in the next room jumping up and down in his little brother's crib. Yes, Ethan was also in the crib. Shortly after that we decided to start gating Erik into his room (since holding the door closed gets old). So he then became an expert at constantly scaling the gate and arriving on the other side with a resounding crash! that echoed throughout the entire house. When we finally figured out how to rig the door shut in addition to the gated doorway, he promptly recruited his sister to open the door for him. Then he dumped his hamper, flipped it upside down so he could climb on it, and jumped over the gate. Freedom regained! At the very least, I have a good excuse for the clothes piled in the corner of my son's room instead of neatly deposited in a hamper. The destroyed hamper has gone to a better place, presumably with all the other hampers of the world previously owned by two-year-old boys.

Like me, I'm sure almost any tot's parent could easily contribute to a chapter of Our Toddler, the Tornado, since destructive and defiant personalities are just innate at this age and lend themselves to good ideas. But when individual personality begin to shine, the good ideas become even more enhanced. This is the case with Marie, who has definitely inherited her father's cleverness and efficiency. A few weeks after we assigned her the new task of feeding the dog twice a day, the rare instance of leftover food in his bowl became commonplace. It didn't take us long to figure out why he constantly had leftovers. Marie quickly volunteered that she was shortcutting the system, explaining, "I was just giving him his breakfast and his dinner at the same time!" And the day we gave Marie a new bed and comforter set, we taught her how to nicely make the bed. Imagine our surprise when she refused to climb under the covers the next night, citing as her defense the fact that she didn't want to have to make it all over again every day.

Thankfully, I'm able to recognize that these are the things memories are made of. I will not be asking my mother to weigh in on her delightful adventures with me and my good ideas (like the time I ate rat poison--my brother played a role in that one) some twenty odd years ago. But hopefully as I continue master this thing called motherhood, I'll be able to channel my kids' wonderful traits of creativity, determination, and ingenuity in some truly positive ways, just as my mom did. In the mean time, I daresay that when others assure us, "you will laugh about this one day!" we certainly will--and have! After all, those white walls were starting to look pretty dull anyway.

Wherein "please sweep up the crumbs under your chair"
devolves into broom rides.