I feel quite certain that Demon Baby will one day be a heavy metal rocker with multiple piercings, a mohawk, and tattoos.
As if to confirm the latter . . .
Anytime it is "too quiet"--that hair standing up on the back of my neck, I know he is in trouble quiet--I come to discover he has marked up his body from head to toe with magic markers. I have hidden every Sharpie in the house--the permanent kind. But with six of us, it is nearly impossible to hide every pen. And now that Demon Baby is toilet-trained, he goes alone to the bathroom--AND knows how to lock the door.
Hence, his legs are green today. His hands black. And he's got some pink around his belly button.
A sign of what's to come one day?
Showing posts with label mischief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mischief. Show all posts
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Creativity
Just when I think Demon Baby has hit the wall. Has thought of every, single michievious deed that can be done . . . he does something so astounding.
Today, it was telling me the boxes of Jello ASKED him (literally spoke to him) to "free" them from the pantry. And they ASKED to be dumped into the bathtub so they could take a bath with him.
I'll say this.
The kid is creative.
Today, it was telling me the boxes of Jello ASKED him (literally spoke to him) to "free" them from the pantry. And they ASKED to be dumped into the bathtub so they could take a bath with him.
I'll say this.
The kid is creative.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Paranoid?
Today the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I knew that meant trouble.
Oldest Daughter said, "You are so paranoid. WHY do you think it automatically means Demon Baby is getting into trouble?"
"Umm . . . because I carried him for nine months, gave birth to him, have been raising him his entire Demon Life, and I KNOW him."
Of course, silence meant he had dragged a chair to the candy stash, taken gum drops upstairs, and found creative uses for them, mostly having to do with designs in the carpet.
Just now, the Mom Eyes In The Back Of My Head felt he was in trouble just behind me.
"What are you doing?" I called out over my shoulder as I worked on my new novel.
"I'm not doing something."
"That form of denial usually means you ARE doing something."
"I'm not!"
I will spare you the details of what my kitchen looks like right now.
Paranoid? Or psychic. Or simply Mother of the Most Mischievous Boy Ever. You be the judge.
Too quiet.
I knew that meant trouble.
Oldest Daughter said, "You are so paranoid. WHY do you think it automatically means Demon Baby is getting into trouble?"
"Umm . . . because I carried him for nine months, gave birth to him, have been raising him his entire Demon Life, and I KNOW him."
Of course, silence meant he had dragged a chair to the candy stash, taken gum drops upstairs, and found creative uses for them, mostly having to do with designs in the carpet.
Just now, the Mom Eyes In The Back Of My Head felt he was in trouble just behind me.
"What are you doing?" I called out over my shoulder as I worked on my new novel.
"I'm not doing something."
"That form of denial usually means you ARE doing something."
"I'm not!"
I will spare you the details of what my kitchen looks like right now.
Paranoid? Or psychic. Or simply Mother of the Most Mischievous Boy Ever. You be the judge.
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