A Diabolic Plan...

Posted by Jordan

My daughter's nefarious contrivances came to fruition today. Yes, I believe she has been planning this. And she executed her scheme with such artifice that we never once suspected that we were being had for foolish pawns.

Norah has been dubbed the "Enemy of All Cleanliness" by Uncle McLain. This is due mainly to her perpetually over-productive mucous and salivary glands, as well as her propensity to regurgitate abundantly at random intervals. The last severe strike was on the brand-spanking-new overstuffed microfiber recliner in our living room. (It actually belongs to my brother, but we consented to his keeping it at our house until he moves into a home with enough room for it. Oh, the burdens we bear for family.)

After one particularly substantial feeding, as she sat bouncing in her mother's lap, Norah managed to suddenly propel the entire contents of her stomach--plus a little extra she'd been saving somewhere just for this occasion--all over the recliner, herself, and her mother. In addition to the recliner's entire arm and seat-cushion, she strategically aimed for the most vulnerable part of the chair: the space between the cushions that opens up only when a person is sitting in it, and which cannot be easily accessed after that person has leapt up screaming "Jordan, Jordan, quick! Bring me some rags!"

Inasmuch as the chair was brand new and did not even belong to us, we felt compelled to have it professionally cleaned and restored to its original splendor. This was partially to alleviate our guilt, and partially because neither of us wanted to sit in it anymore, knowing what soaked in before we could wipe it all down.

Before the recliner's departure for Alpine Cleaning and Restoration, it sat in one corner of the living room, creating a functional barricade with the wall and the entertainment center that blocked access to one of our potted plants: a little Hoya perched on a two-foot metal stand. But now that the recliner was gone, the plant stood unprotected. And we never gave it a second thought.

Little did we know that this was exactly what the little one had anticipated.

This morning, Jaicee went visiting teaching, leaving me alone with the girls. (Which is never a good idea...) I was in the bathroom combing my hair because I had to leave for work in less than 30 minutes. Naivie came walking in with her brow furrowed, looking slightly agitated. All she could say was "Noah, Daddy, Noah, Daddy" and point out the bathroom door. Even then, I did not conceive that I would walk down the hall and out into the living room to find the roots of my Hoya exposed and my youngest daughter happily consuming the dark, rich, fertile soil from the overturned ceramic pot.



Now, after telling this story, I want to firmly asseverate that my daughters are generally not into mischief. Well, at least Naivie hasn't been. Unfortunately, I think that our luck in teaching Naivie not to destroy things has spoiled us a little; it has put us a little too much at ease for a time. But now it is evident that we must resume our guard, man the posts, keep the watch, batten down the hatches... and, er... something like that.

I admit, it is insanely frustrating to repeatedly find the child trying to pull the contents of the bookshelf onto the floor, then to pull her away, get her attention, tell her a firm "no", and place her in a more appropriate activity... only to turn around and see her at it again with vigor. But once she grasps the concept (and not the houseplants), life can be much more enjoyable and we can all sit and bask in the warm glow of a Christmas Tree decorated all the way to the bottom.

So, Norah, let the learning commence: With your intentions fully manifest, I now have my eye on you!