I’ve been pondering this question every since my little one, Mel, with the help of her sister, put black shoe polish in her hair so that she could be a “proper Snow White” for Halloween.
Later, that night, Lex tried to smooth my frazzled nerves and promised me that she’d take the kids off my hands for a day or two since I seem to be ground zero for their antics…and feel like it, too.
What can I say about Mel that hasn’t already been said about every energetic and precocious child who is egged on by her big sister at the worst possible times? I told Lex that sometimes I feel like I should apologize to her great grandmother, although deceased, for naming such a catastrophe prone child after her. Such a sweet person in the old black and white pictures, and Lex’s grandfather adored her.
Tonight, Lex gave me something that made me feel a lot better, curiously. It was an old picture of a child who was covered from head to toe in mud. In faded ink, the picture on the back said, “Melanie, age 6”.
I’m off to start dinner. Mel is “helping” me tonight.