SuperMom, I am not
When Maren was just shy of two, I found her like this:
I still remember her deer-in-headlights look as I busted her. She knew she was being naughty, but couldn’t help herself. The offending instrument in this case was not a marker, or Sharpie, or paint. My Maren got into my mascara, and, as an observant little booger, tried to put it on in the eye region, just like me. And she tried to put mascara on her favorite baby doll, too. I love that I grabbed the camera instead of yelling at her. I love that she was trying to use the correct application, even if the tool was not hers to use. Maren is a rule-follower to her core; I can trace this quality back to her toddlerhood. ‘Twas always her curiosity that got her into trouble.
Yesterday, I found Greta like this:
Do you see any resemblence to Maren’s expression? No. Greta stares at me with defiance and purpose. She’s thinking, “I won.” Greta knows that she is not supposed to touch my make-up, but was absolutely full of glee that she circumvented me to get to my bathroom and go to town. I love that I once again grabbed the camera. I love that she, too, attempted to mimic me in her application. Upon being busted, she defiantly showed me what she had been doing and tightened her death grip on the offending eye liner. When I wrangled it away, she had an absolute fit. This girl knows what she wants and fights (hard) for it.
Curiosity and spunk. I love these qualities in my girls.
Oh, and the obvious conclusion is that I am clearly a delinquent parent that I routinely leave my children unsupervised often enough for them to commit such shenanigans. I’m sure I was
doing laundry washing dishes cleaning talking on the phone to a girlfriend. Whoopsie.