"Mama! I made a platypus footprint for you!" yells Miss 4 from the other room. She rounds the corner covered in blue and green watercolor paint which I know without looking is covering my dining room table, as well as the paper it was intended for. Her hair is in natty dreads embedded with peanut butter sandwich and paint. I am elbow-deep in dismantling a watermelon into child-sized pieces and covered in bits of melon mush and juice. At this moment Little One begins to scream from the area of the dining room. She, who had just been at my feet waiting for another piece of watermelon, had gone to explore the atelier, when lured by the siren song of watercolor paint, she had climbed into the chair, tipped it over and wedged her wee, tiny arm between the slats. I could not free her arm, and so, suspending her with one arm, and holding the chair up so that it wouldn't pull on her little arm until I could figure out how to get her loose, I walk into the kitchen to see a UPS delivery man standing at the door. Without batting an eyelash, he says "I have a package." drops the article at the door and saunters off.
What the hell has this man seen in his day, that our domestic horror-show didn't faze him?
Holy cow.
Another day in the life.
(P.S. The arm is fine. Once she relaxed her arm, and stopped screaming, it came right out of the chair-back. The paint on the other hand....)
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