Yesterday I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. It didn't make that much of a difference. I can't keep up. As I busied myself with folding laundry and decluttering I suddenly smelled something toxic. A familiar smell. A toxic smell. A bad smell. An ominous smell.
What could it be? I thought all the kids were in the back, playing. As it turns out all but one was in the back playing. One small child had realized she'd been left to her own devices and was busily taking full advantage of this fact.
I followed the strong and ominous smell which led me to the bathroom. The room the lone indoor child had just left. Nail polish remover? No... nail polish. The floor sparkled. The floor did not sparkle because it was clean. The floor sparkled because it had been smeared with sparkly nail polish.
I went out and grabbed Laurel.
" What were you doing in the bathroom?"
" Nothing."
Her fingers and toes sparkled. Not just her fingernails and toenails, but her fingers and toes and feet all sparkled. She had gone to town. She had painted the town sparkly pink.
" Did you put on nail polish?" I asked the obvious.
" Yes" she managed to whisper before bursting into tears.
" Where is the nail polish now?"
Sob sob sob..
" Laurel! Tell me where it is!"
" I put it hic..sob sob..hic sob...away"
At least she put it away when she was done.
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