This past Sunday afternoon, I was out with the three big girls and called home to check on Mary (7) and Lydia (3). Mary answered the phone and said that Daddy and Lydia were taking a nap. When I asked Mary what she was doing she replied nonchalantly, "Oh, I'm just painting my toenails."
Then she said, "Uh-oh Lydia's awake."
"No-no Lydia."
"Lydia, NO!"
I cut her off and said, "Mary hang up and take care of her."
Mary's voice was rising, "Lydia don't touch that! NO! Oh-no!"
I asked, "Did she dump nail polish?"
"No Mama, she just dumped a whole bottle of nail polish remover."
Trying not to panic I told her to get towels as quickly as possible and clean it up. Then I asked the feared question, "What room are you in?" Knowing the dining room would be the worst place to be and figuring the laws of probability and my not being at home, that's where she would be. Thankfully, she was in my bathroom (which happens to be the best place to be for a seven year old to paint nails.)
The next scary question, "What is she wearing?" When I left home Lydia had on a beautiful pink, linen dress that was on loan. It's the kind of dress that some nail polish removers eat.
"Oh, she's wearing her slip."
"Whew!" Another close call in the life of little girls. I was really glad that I would be home in twenty minutes. When I got home there was no sign of the nail painting escapade but two little girls running around in their church slip.
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