I had gone to the church with Miriam so she could practice the organ and record a piece for an organ advent calendar she's participating in. We didn't get home until after Andrew had started putting Phoebe to bed. He thought for sure he had succeeded in getting her to sleep, but the minute he went downstairs, Phoebe sneaked out of bed and ran across the hallway to our bedroom to say goodnight to me.
I tucked her back into bed.
She got up again later for something else. And then something else. And then something else.
She even got up, climbed the bookshelf, grabbed the (child-proof) bottle of melatonin from the top shelf and helped herself to (what she claimed was) a responsible dose (and, yes, got reprimanded for it, even though evidently she needed a dose to fall asleep that night).
When Alexander went in to bed she was still awake.
He came in to complain about her because she had climbed into his bed and wouldn't get out.
I put her back into her bed.
She climbed into his bed again.
He came in to complain again.
So I pulled her out of the top bunk and carried her downstairs.
If she wasn't going to sleep, she could work. I was hoping I could have her put the dishes away (she hates putting the dishes away), but we hadn't run the dishwasher yet, so instead I got out a cloth and told her that if she couldn't sleep (happens to the best of us), she could help me clean the cabinets.
I hate our kitchen cabinets. There are so many grooves on them...which just turn into gunk-collecting surfaces. They are terribly difficult to wipe down.
And...I don't wipe them down nearly often enough so they often look...awful.
Every now and then I get the urge to force the kids to help me clean them and tonight was the night.
I had Phoebe start scrubbing while I did some hand dishes and when I'd finished washing those I joined her on the cabinets. I even broke out the steam mop. She hates how noisy it is...and I have to admit that I don't particularly appreciate the sound, either...but it does loosen all the gunk and we can wipe it off much easier than without a quick steam.
Oh, another (noisy) thing Phoebe was concerned about was that DJ, our robot vacuum, was out and about doing his business for the evening. DJ is short for DJ Rock, which is short for Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, which is the full name of our vacuum (it's a Roborock brand vacuum, so the name...makes perfect sense). Phoebe does not like DJ...or any vacuum...but DJ in particular because he is seemingly sentient.
It does not help that Andrew will, at times, use the remote control function to chase her around the house with the vacuum.
Anywho...she kept leaving the kitchen to check on DJ's whereabouts. But mostly she was excited to be up cleaning the kitchen with Mom. And I was fine with that because I knew she had taken (what was probably) a reasonable dose of melatonin, which was sure to eventually kick in and have her begging to go to bed.
"I love cleaning the kitchen with you!" she sang out. "This is so much fun to be cleaning the kitchen together, isn't it?"
"So fun," I said. "Keep scrubbing!"
"I'm just going to check where DJ is...okay he's still in the music room. We've got time before he gets here!"
So, there we were, steaming and scrubbing the cabinets together, when I—with my scrubbing hand—discovered a sizable splinter on the bottom of one of the cabinets.
"OUCH!" I cried out. Then, "Holy cow! That's bleeding a lot! I need a paper towel! Scoot, scoot!"
I moved her out of the way and grabbed a paper towel to wrap my finger in. I spent a few minutes washing my hands in soap and water and then applying some direct pressure to stop the bleeding. Phoebe watched. And while she watched her little wheels were spinning.
She looked at me, awestruck (at her own awesomeness), and said, "Mom, you are 40 years old and you are bleeding!"
"Astute observation," I said.
"Just from washing the cabinets," she said, shaking her head. "You are 40 years old and you are bleeding. I am only 4 years old and I am not bleeding. Am I...am I...better...at cleaning cabinets than you are?"
"Apparently," I said.
"I cannot believe I am better at cleaning cabinets than my mom!" she said to herself, returning to her scrubbing with renewed vigour.
Eventually she informed me that she had worked so hard she was "dizzy" and was therefore ready to go to bed. For real this time.
So I thanked her for the expert help she had been to her frail and ailing mother and tucked her into bed, where she promptly fell asleep (right around 10:30 PM).
My kitchen cabinets look wonderful (or at least as wonderful as they possibly can, given their...nature). My finger (and pride) hurt a little bit. But Phoebe had a good time
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