Miss A is notorious lately for staying up later than big sister. I had to use my mean mommy voice the other night as the clock creeped closer and closer to 9 after her bedtime story and she showed no signs of getting sleepy. After telling her to lay down and handing her a book, she protested loudly and I shut the door. Enough of you sassy girl!
I went in the kitchen to prepare for the next day, making coffee, making Miss C’s lunch, writing a check for milk money, etc. Miss A quit kicking the wall with her footie PJ clad feet as she routinely does as she is winding down
ticked off at mama and it seemed eerily quiet. Something was rotten in Denmark, I just knew it.
I went in to find her stripped out of her footed fleece PJs and wearing nothing but a generic Pull Up, her favorite flannel gown in her hand and surrounded by the contents of a small plastic storage box I keep in her closet (apparently not high up enough) as if she had flung everything willy nilly while looking for something very important, like chocolate or tequila.
She had broken into the Vicks Vaporub and had been slathering it all over her chest. And arms. And legs.
I have to say she was pretty darn proud of herself.