Saturday, July 23, 2016

And he's at it again, selectively.

I step up onto the sunny porch, exhausted from swimming and looking forward to the quite afternoon just myself and the boy as Marisa has gone off to class for the day. I open the door to a sheepish looking boy. Dropping my towel, I examine the shreads of plastic littering the floor. Puffs marshmallow packaging is slowing being pieced together. Oh no. The means s'more fixings. I round the corner, a Hershey's chocolate bar is sitting fully intact on the kitchen floor. Internally I thank the higher ups that he didn't eat that one, but there should be...
three more are sitting still packaged on the couch. Okay... so for some unknown reason, first time in his life he didn't eat something that was available to him.
He hasn't followed me into the kitchen.
More marshmallow packaging litters the floor.
"Are you kidding me??"
The pantry door is swinging open.
A spagetti jar lolls about on the floor. Intact.
So the boy is five and a half now. I look at him. He ducks his head and crawls under my studio desk.
"You're lucky it's me that found this and not Marisa. She'd have killed you," I say as I begin to scrub half chewed marshmallow stickiness off the bottom of my shoe.
"You know I was looking forward to just resting and recouping after swimming. Now I've gotta mop the floor," I'm muttering as I start picking up all the pieces of plastic. I'm wondering just how many marshmallows he may have consumed, 15? 20? I think we had all of five out of the bag. Maybe he was too full of marshmallows to bother with topping it off with chocolate.
I close up the pantry.
So much for feeding him rice this morning so he would quit having diareaha after eating his entire auto-feeding jar of food...

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