You Win Some, You Lose Some

Today the kids were exploring colored Epson salts in a clear tub that I placed on their light panel in the kitchen.  Caden was busy for a long time, keeping the salts mostly contained and scooping and pouring happily. Addison joined in to play with her plastic animals for a while, then she came and went as Caden played on, "mowing the grass" with his miniature tractor.  They were as happy as clams and showing no signs of moving on to other things.  So it's at this point that I decided to play the odds.  


I had to go to the bathroom.  And I wanted to start a load of wash.  The safe bet would of course be to herd them into the playroom, baby gate them in, and hope that the worst they would do is climb on things they shouldn't be on (like standing on the tractor seat, sitting on the play changing table, standing on their library chairs, all of which they have been caught doing recently).  And THEN go about my business.  But this option interrupts their play, potentially sets us all up for at least one meltdown, and takes much more time than just deciding to slip out quickly and hurry back.  That option of course requires stealth, speed and luck but offers the chance of a much bigger payoff.  Which would be, getting things done myself while the kids are none the wiser.  


I took the risk, and slipped out the door with a nonchalant, "Be right back".  Because a stern you'd-better-not-try-anything-because-I'm-right-around-the-corner tone would for sure guarantee problems.  Don't know why, but it just works that way.  Act like it's no big deal, and it usually isn't.  Unless of course you're gambling.  And then sometimes it becomes a very big deal.


I raced up the stairs to collect their jammies for washing, loaded and then cranked the washer up, and finally  dashed to the bathroom.  All the while hearing the comforting sounds of salt being scooped and poured back into the box with a steady rhythm.  Because salt being dropped on the floor by handfuls, that would sound different right?  And salt being thrown across the room would most certainly sound different, no?  Well for all you inquiring minds, that would be a double-NOPE.  Now is the time you should imagine me sneaking back into the kitchen, having bet everything on red.  Only to discover that I should have bet on green.  Yes, green.  Because that was the color of my salt-covered kitchen floor. 


Caden was nowhere to be found.  Not sure if he started it and then vacated, or whether he got out of Dodge when he realized what his sister's intentions were.  Either way, it was a smart move.  Addison on the other hand, was still center stage, flinging fistfuls of salt across the room.  And smiling.  


I calmly spoke only one word as I pointed to the baby gate.  "Leave."  She dropped the salt and turned , like she was totally willing to pay the price for the fun she just had.  And it must have been fun...  Because somehow she got salt in the weirdest places.  I found it under the toddler table, between the table and the craft paper I had secured on top.  On their cube chairs.  In their high chairs.  Under the baseboards.  By the pantry.  Under the easel.  In her diaper.  And under both of their feet of course.  It was even in the playroom...  It was officially ev-ery-where.  But honestly, I wasn't mad.  Or even put out.  I just acted super-disappointed until I had a moment to myself to LAUGH and these little disasterizers.    Seriously, it takes some smarts and some creativity to make a mess like that!  (And just wait until the hubster asks, "How was today, did the kids behave?")


Then, armed with a hand vac, broom and dustpan, I labored away for a good while as they watched from behind the baby gate bars.  Like prisoners awaiting their pardon.  I considered how moms play the odds like this all the time, because we have to.  And as every mom knows...  you win some, you lose some.  And then you play some more.