A Small Mystery

Once a month I get together with some other women from church for a book club. Last night was our meeting, so the husband put the preschooler to bed for me while I went off to engage in wild partying. (We had sundaes and talked about the book, whether or not our pregnant member, who was having contractions all evening, might be giving birth that night, and decided what book we were going to read for next month. Oh, and toilet training. Wild women.)

The point of all this is that I did not put the preschooler to bed (ie: do a sweep of her blankets for toys and contraband,) nor was I there to monitor that she stayed in bed.

Which means I wasn't particularly surprised when I got her up this morning to find her clutching a couple of bottles of food coloring. Let me amend that. I was surprised to find her clutching food coloring. I was not surprised to find something odd with her. She's rather fond of taking everything she loves with her when she goes to bed and she loves everything she sees, it seems. Everything's a toy.

Her bedding and her body were liberally spattered in glorious technicolor. Green, red, blue, only yellow was left out. I guess she didn't roll over on that bottle in the night.

What I want to know is how she got the box of food coloring. I thought I had it up out of reach. But then, nothing has really been out of reach since she started climbing. When we have our own house again I swear I'm going to put locks on everything!

She'll probably just figure out a way around them, though.

Off to do several loads of laundry ...