We finally wrap up a weekend of driving just hours ago. My kids spent a fun filled weekend with Aunt Cara and Uncle Ben and their three cousins. At one point, Scarlet was openly admitting she didn't really care if her true parents ever actually came to get her. And the entire 5 hour drive home was filled with requests to return to our "Utah home". I sometimes wonder if Scarlet thinks she is a millionaire's daughter. It is going to be devastating to this girl when she realizes one day that her parents do not own every single residence she has ever spent a night in.
But I made an important and disturbing discovery during the car ride home. Rhode was fast asleep and Scarlet was being unnaturally self-entertained while I concentrated on the road and the radio and Jon got his DS on. Jon then casually looked to his left to check in on the back seat situation and yells, "Kacey, pull over now!"
The man should learn not to give me panic attacks.
Assuming I had a dead or dying child in the backseat, I immediately pulled over... onto the left hand shoulder.
"What are you doing?! You can't park over here!" he yelled at me while I am desperately trying to remember how to Heimlich or CPR something. I had come to a complete stop before I figured out what all the commotion was about.
Scarlet had pulled the veggie tray from the back window ledge and had two handfuls, yes full fisted handfuls, of ranch dressing balanced precariously over every surface she could reach.
We cleaned up the ranch, wondering why in the world our 3 year old would think it would be just fine to wash her hands in dressing with us just inches away?
Everyone knows a quiet child in another room is 90% of the time doing something they shouldn't be. But in the backseat of the car? A mere rearview window glance away from punishment? That is pretty daring.
Later in the drive, after a terrifying left lane shoulder merging, Scarlet finally succumbed to sleep and Rhode kicked around happily in his car seat. I was on the phone with family while Jon continued saving the world on his 3 inch touch screen and just happened to take a glance back at the much too quiet son of ours.
He looked like one of the indians from Peter Pan.
He somehow managed to pull my purse from that same rear window ledge and grabbed my makeup compact. It is one of those really convenient ones that has lipstick, eyeshadow, blush and eyeliner all in one little handy box. Well... I should clarify... it was a really convenient little makeup box. Now, it is has smeared into one color, a horrible tannish brown that adorned both chubby cheeks, arms, forehead, shirt and legs.
Once again, I am literally inches away while he adorns/destroys.
I came to the only conclusion a parent could. My children are just not as afraid of me as they should be.
Now that I have explained, if you happen to see me walking around town in this over the next few weeks, you'll understand.