Dyce is busy. Seriously, BUSY.
He has too much to do and too many places to be. He has little time for discipline and almost dares us to even try.
Lately he’s made a playground of our bathroom. He spends almost every morning going through cabinets and pulling EVERYTHING within reach off the counter while I attempt to get myself halfway presentable for work.
Hairdryer, contact case, hairbrush, toothpaste, tampons….you name it. If he can reach it then before I know what he has, he’s sprinting through the house squealing with delight over his new treasure.
This morning he was at it again as I saw him running out of the bathroom with something in his hands and scurrying into the kitchen. I followed behind but decided to make a detour by the entry way table to get my coffee mug. It was once I rounded the corner to the kitchen that I saw it and found myself caught in that moment, as a mother, where I found my child doing something both infuriating yet charming at the same time.
There he was in his bright green pants, plaid button up and snug grey cardigan, squatting in front of the dog bowl as he happily dipped my makeup brushes in the dog’s water and “painted” the kitchen floor.
Do I commend him on his ingenuity or scold him for reasons probably beyond his comprehension? I managed to calm myself down by realizing it was better the dog bowl than the toilet bowl, I guess?
After taking the brush and telling him “no” I pointed to the mess on the floor. He instinctively pointed back at me only to mimic my “no”.
That was a waste of time.
I then asked him if he was sorry for ruining mama’s brushes. He looked at me and smiled then ran over and hugged my legs. All was forgiven.
Then he wiped his snotty nose on my skirt.