but they still wouldn’t last five minutes when facing my bored, coming-down-with-a-cold 4-year-old.
The magic marker marks happened during our history reading today, when I (foolishly) left my pink-magic-marker-wielding 4-year-old in visual range of this book so that I could use the bathroom. I was gone only moments, but that’s all it takes.
The scissor-situation is a long-running battle in which I desperately try to keep all scissors hidden and locked away until someone actually has a REASONABLE NEED for such an item, while my 4-year-old (mastermind that she is) continually manages to find those hiding places and consquently reclaim the scissors and then use them to give haircuts to every single Barbie and stuffed animal she can get her hands on while I’m busy on the computer working that freelance project I took on so as to be able to finance her up-and-coming homeschooled education.
The clump of hair you see next to the recently-re-confiscated scissors is from the large stuffed horse she got for Christmas this year. Said horse now has a significantly shorter tail and mane, and I now have to wash all her sheets and blankets because that’s where she was sitting when she took on that enormous styling project and there’s stuffed animal hair clippings everywhere.
She’s coming down with a cold, the weather outside is dreadful and dreary, and it’s just THAT kind of day around here.
How much you wanna bet that even the Gorgons would run screaming in the opposite direction?


