First, I've had to move my personal chapstick from location to location to keep it away from an ever-mobile (and ever-chapstick craving) Phoebe. I moved chapstick from my desk, onto the shelf beside my desk, all the way to the shelf mounted on the wall above my computer because Phoebe just kept finding ways to get it.
The other day she came in complaining that she wanted chapstick but that she couldn't find hers. I was in the middle of doing something, so I just stood up to grab mine (because I have to stand up to reach my chapstick otherwise Phoebe can get it) and said, "Here—you can use mine."
"Really? Your weird, round chapstick?!"
"Yes," I told her. "My...weird, round...chapstick."
I have an eos chapstick...that is...evidently...weird and round.
"Wow! Thanks letting me use your weird, round chapstick, Mom!" she said. "Can I hold it?"
"Yes, you can hold it."
"Wow! Thanks letting me hold your weird, round chapstick!"
Such an honour.
*****
I also keep chapstick in the drawer of my nightstand (apparently I like chapstick as much as Phoebe does). One night not too long ago poor, sick, pathetic Phoebe wandered into our room just as we were getting ready to go to bed. She asked if she could sleep with us (because she was so poor, sick, and pathetic) and we said yes because sometimes life is easier that way (and she really was quite pathetic).
Andrew was holding her and I decided I'd just put some chapstick on before climbing into bed, thinking she wouldn't really be paying attention to me. But alas.
"You have chapstick in your drawer!" she noted, perking up and lifting her head off his shoulder.
"I...yes," I said, defeated. "I have chapstick in my drawer."
"That is good to know!" she said.
"Is it though?"
I'm not sure that is good information for her to have. That chapstick might find a new home next to my weird, round chapstick.
*****
On Tuesday night when all of her big siblings were at the church for mutual, Phoebe was proudly walking around with her "Sprite" chapstick that she got in her stocking. She put layer after layer of it on her lips. And then somehow she ended up with "Grape Fanta" chapstick, which I know Santa didn't put in her stocking because Santa was thinking about things like whether or not the mother in this household would be pleased with purple chapstick stains all over creation (and the mother in this household would not be, as it turns out, so Santa was mindful and gave the purple grape Fanta chapstick to an older child and the clear Sprite chapstick to the chapstick-loving, lid-losing toddler).
We were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, though, so I figured the chapstick couldn't do much harm right there.
"Isn't that Zoë's?" I asked though.
"Zoë's not here, so..." was all Phoebe said.
I'd take it from her before we left the bathroom—no harm, no foul.
She was quite pleased with this grape chapstick and was talking all about it—holding it securely in her left hand, with the Sprite chapstick in her right. Giving her lips a little smear from one or the other every couple of seconds.
And then front door opened and her siblings all clomped inside and...Phoebe started to panic a little bit.
One minute she was talking to me: "I like grape chapstick so much! I'm so glad I found this! Isn't it neat that I can put it on all by myself and look so pretty with my purple lips?" and "Do you want some, too, Momma?"
And then next minute terror was struck into her heart: "Is Zoë coming upstairs right now?!"
"I believe she is," I said.
Phoebe held up the purple chapstick with wide eyes.
"Ummm..." she said, gaping like a fish. "Ummmm...ummmm..."
And then as Zoë made it to the landing between the stairs and that bathroom door, Phoebe found her footing.
"Ummm...Oh, hey, Zoë! Look—I found your grape chapstick...for you! Here you go!"
"Thanks," Zoë said. "Where's the lid?"
"Yeah...I don't know that."
That little stinker tried to play things off like she'd done Zoë a favour by "finding" her chapstick when really she was just treating herself to Zoë's chapstick because Zoë wasn't at home.
No comments:
Post a Comment