Bad Grandaddy Redux

Another Older Post...




The Tale of Kalel's Birthday Gift -

On my birthday, we had to run out to the library, the gas station, and Walmart. The plan was, to sneak off quickly, while Deirdre was at school, leaving Kalel and Lucien here with Dad. We weren't going to be gone long, and I had already set up Kalel's bed for her, with all her books and blankets and music, in case Dad wanted to put her down for a nap, before we got back. Snacks and drinks were laid out for both kids, and the den was fairly neat.

So...Dad had the job of watching two kids play happily in the floor together (as Lucien and Kalel are now Partners in Crime), and assuring they did not find any sort of Injurous Mischief, for a period of about 2 1/2 hours. And, should he find that too daunting, he had the option of putting Kalel in her bed, thus reducing his KidLoad by half.

What do YOU think happened?

A little after 3pm, Peyton called Dad, to let him know that we were on our way home, but might not get there before Deirdre did.
No answer - we may as well not even HAVE a phone, when Dad's the only one there to answer it.

Dad called back, a few minutes later. He had no idea we had ever called, but was worried over when Deirdre would get home, as he'd seen the Head Start bus dropping off the neighbor kids, and could not remember if she belonged on that one. I assured him that she would be home soon, on a different bus, and that we would be home very soon, as well - advising him to just keep an eye out for the bus, so he could open the door for her. I noticed he sounded a bit agitated, but then...Dad always kind of sounds agitated.

We arrived home, soon after, to find Deirdre already there, and Ready to Tattle. Peyton opened the door of the den, and she rushed out, wide-eyed, to explain.

The floor was covered in a long swath of the paint we'd used when we repainted the den. Lucien was following right behind Deirdre, equally wide-eyed, and full of alarmed babbling. Kalel sat smirking, on the floor, and waved cheerfully in our direction. And Dad was on his hands and knees, with a bowl of water, a rag, a putty knife, and his unanswered prayers that he could somehow fix this before we got home.

Deirdre said "LOOK WHAT THEY DID!"
Lucien said "KAH-WELL! LOOKIT!! KAH-WEELLL!"
Dad said he had no idea what happened, but it must be Lucien's fault.
Kalel said "Hi-HI!" and waved cheerfully, before darting out into the hall, towards Freedom and Interesting Bags of Groceries.

Now...that paint. It was interior satin latex, thank God, rather than something more durable, and it was in a wide path, curving around one side of the den. Plus little dabs, here and there, swipes on the coffee table, and two faint Lucien-sized handprints, on the couch. Oh, and little panicky Lucien-sized footprints, all around the den.

Dad has quite the reputation for letting the kids do Absolutely Whatever, to the den, when he's "watching" them. But this...this was so far beyond dumping all the dvds on the floor or throwing toys out the window that I just knew it MUST have happened while Dad was dutifully outside, waiting for Deirdre's bus.

Again...what do YOU think happened?

I'll tell you what happened.
Dad was sitting at the computer, playing checkers online, and ignoring the kids, as usual.
But here's the twist: Lucien, as it turned out, was actually innocent. He made that quite clear, in the most precise (and desperate) display of language skills of his young life, as he pleaded with his Daddy to PLEASE understand.

Lucien: "KAH-WELL." *points at the cabinet, obviously distraught* "Kah-WELL. I say NO. I try..." *makes motions with his hands to attest that he tried to stop her* "I can't! NO, Kah-WELL! I's SCARED! I CRY! Ummm...." *overwrought, and reduced to little choked noises of worry* "I say NO KAH-WELL!!!"
Translation: "Father! I endeavored to stop her, but she overcame me! My foul wretch of a sister took the paint out and painted all over the floor! I warned her, but she did not heed my words! I offer myself up to you, a failure, and placing my fate in your hands."

Lucien's claim was backed up, not only by his obvious terror and worry, but by those panicky little footprints all over the den - and what looked like drag marks, possibly from trying to drag his sister away from the paint.

The Real Story, as pieced together from Confessions and Logic:
Dad was staring at checkers, forgetting he even had grandchildren. Kalel and Lucien were playing, which, as usual, involved Kalel burrowing through the toy cabinets like a rat.
Those of you who've been here, or seen pictures, may recall that we have an entire wall covered in bookshelves and floor-level cabinets. One cabinet section, usually blocked by an armchair, contains some of Dad's tools and two cans of extra housepaint. The other three cabinet sections are ALL TOYS. One for board games and a few larger items; one with a laundry basket full of toys, and various storage containers organizing blocks and itty-bitty toys; one cabinet filled with The Little People World - a small zoo, a larger Learning Zoo, a Schoolhouse, a Dollhouse, a Noah's Ark, and a few random odds and ends.

Kalel worships these cabinets; they are her Valhalla. She can open them all, herself, and so spends any free time climbing into them and Burrowing. She will happily curl up in the toy basket, sit on storage boxes, or travel from one cabinet to the next, tunneling like a mole.

On this particular day, she was unsupervised enough to clear out the entire third cabinet, right beside the fourth cabinet, which is the one full of no-nos. This allowed her access to the paint. Still unsupervised, she was then able to lift a half-full gallon of paint out of the cabinet, onto the floor, for further inspection. She managed to get the lid off, and start repainting our floor with the contents. While Lucien is FREAKING THE HELL OUT, completely unnoticed by Dad.
Feeling celebratory, she began to express her artistic soul...by turning her body into a paint roller; coating her mostly naked self with paint and rolling a stripe around the den.
She painted her hands, she painted her face. She painted her thighs, her belly, and happily filled her little inverted nipples with paint. Apparently, all while Lucien ran around the den in alarm (and assuredly, at high volume), pulling and dragging at her as she swatted him away (Kalel is quite capable of kicking her big brother's ass).

Eventually, Dad noticed Somthing Was Amiss. When asked, later, just what his reaction had been, he offered "I didn't do ANYTHING, Peyton; I just stared. It's called Shock. What I was thinking, was 'Oh, SHIT.'"
Dad does not always appear to be the brightest crayon in the box, but he clearly sensed his own doom. This was in a whole other league from allowing Lucien to stomp crackers in the floor, or tear up important papers. This was BIG.
As fast as he could, he ran out of the room for cleaning supplies, dropped to his knees, and began a frenzied attempt to Hide the Evidence, as Lucien continued to run about in a panicked premonition of his own impending punishment. Dad naturally assumed his most-doted-on little buttsmear of a grandson was responsible, and Lucien, slowly gaining sapience as he approaches the ripe old age of Three, was POSITIVE that he would be the one to take the fall, for this one.

'Round about that time, Deirdre's bus delivered her home. To an empty yard, with no one waiting to greet her. Being a sensible, mostly fearless girl, she calmly walked to the door and rang the "dingbell." Receiving no response, she stood pounding on the door, until Dad at last stopped to wonder what that noise was, and discovered her on the porch. This was a few minutes before we arrived.

Peyton did not say anything when he opened the door; he just stood there, taking it all in. I came over to take a look at what had frozen my husband, and was greeted by Deirdre and Kalel. I just said hi to Deirdre, and invited her to follow me to the kitchen, as Peyton went back to the car, twitching, for the rest of the bags. Kalel made a beeline for the open front door, and Deirdre (God bless the self-sufficient child) grabbed her, dragging her towards the kitchen and handing her a bag to plunder.

Our den is a light, soft mocha, and that color, when wet, is only a shade darker than Kalel's skin tone. Therefore, Peyton and I were sighing in relief, at Kalel's apparent lack of bodypaint - there seemed to be just a bit, in her hair.Until Peyton took her into the bath, and discovered most of her body and her entire face was now a light, creamy beige...right before her "skin" began sloughing off, with the rag. And extra paint tucked away, in those little inverted nipples.

To Dad's credit, we feel he has learned his lesson. The sheer terror in his eyes was the first sign; the next, was when I offered to help him clean, and he shook his head vigorously, still making little confused, worried grunts of dismay.
To Lucien's credit, he has learned to adequately tattle on his Wicked Evil Little Sister.
To Deirdre's credit, she has proven, yet again, that she is the most responsible adult in the house, after Peyton and I.
To Kalel's credit, she has, once again, proven to be Gifted. At evil.
And to our credit, both Kalel and Dad are still alive and unscathed. We didn't even beat them.

I'd very sad to say, no one thought to take any pictures of this, so the following will have to suffice. I now give you, Kalel and Lucien, Busy in the Cabinets (from the day after The Paint Incident):




Lucien cannot make a Happy Face, without looking at least mildly retarded.


Lucien, looking a bit less retarded, and Kalel, looking in the direction of the paint cans.
Me, I'm looking at that Nilla Wafer hidden under the edge of the cabinet, and wondering why it is such a Perpetual Mystery to the children, when ants come into the house to bite them.