You may have already seen this. It got sent to me at work on Tuesday and it's cracked me up since then.
I had never realised the potential of a bag of flour. This is what happens when a three and one year old get their mits on a bag of flour when their mother isn't watching.
Move over bread, biscuits and cakes. Flour now has a new purpose.
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6 comments:
There is an interesting similarity when a 2 year old gets boxes of cornflour, custard powder and baking powder... if you shake and squeeze the boxes, in a certain way known to 2 year olds, the flour goes a long long way. Water should not be used in the clean up.
A different kind of joy to finding the same 2 year in sole charge of a tub of emulsifying ointment (a kind of moisturising stuff in 1kg tub), a chest of drawers, some curtains, wallpaper and a duvet.
Always suspected she was advanced beyond her years.
The mess is somewhat more contained and but slightly more explosive when, as happened in our house yesterday, 25 times the required amount of baking powder gets added to the cupcake recipe. The baking powder was supplemented with baking soda, because funnily enough, we didn't have 3 cups of baking powder. At least we have a self-cleaning oven - this poor woman (and Your cousin) could have done with a self-cleaning room.
OH my stars......I am really pleased I was me, yesterday.
Ooooh! I so sympathize with this woman. I remember when the spud was about this age she learned that she could pull a chair over to the refrigerator and get into the contraband markers that were stashed on top. In the time it took me to pee, she got a huge black magic marker and colored herself and my brand new tan sofa and ottoman. She was a strange blarple color for a week. I don't want to discuss the fate of my poor new pieces of furniture.
Oh, and then there was the time a year later she was supposed to be watching tv and she managed to get a box of hand blown Easter eggs off the shelf in the closet. I sensed things had become way too quiet in the tv room, but still by the time I got there a dozen eggs had been pulverized into billions of tiny shell fragments.
I soooo sympathize. That flour must have been a nightmare to clean up. I remember just standing there in shock looking at the spud's handiwork then crying as I contemplated the hours of clean up that would be required when I was already exhausted from normal mom duties.
I have been told that some day I'll look back on these things and laugh. I have yet to discover any nostalgic whimsey in them. Although I suppose there is a certain sense of mom one-upmanship in swapping kid destruction nightmare stories. I'll see your bag of flour debacle and raise you a Sharpie to the sofa story....
Oh wow. Those are some sensational kid destruction stories, Janie. I reckon there's a website begging to be made...'My Child Destroyed....'
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