Gabe. Enough said.

Preschool has been good for Gabe. It has opened him to a whole new world of artistic expression. Instead of hitting or throwing things when he is bored, angry or frustrated in general, he has now decided to teach Tristan some art projects. Yesterday, while I was soaking in the tub, he wanted to finger paint. But, why wait for mom, when you can just handle things on your own? He moved a chair and climbed up to the shelf that we keep our diaper bin on. This holds diapers, wipes, lotion for Tristan's eczema, and diaper cream. That way we can tote it room to room. Back to the story, the mediums chosen to paint with were diaper cream and lotion, the work surface (no, not the easy to clean tile) the carpet. The art project was on. How much cream and lotion can we get onto the carpet before mom gets out of the tub and starts down the stairs? As soon as Gabe heard me drain the tub, I imagine this is when he knew they needed to attempt a cleanup. A newly opened tub of wipes will be an easy way to clean. I came downstairs to an ENTIRE tube of diaper cream and an ENTIRE bottle of lotion and an ENTIRE new tub of wipes all over my carpet. There was a smidgen of painting done to Tristan as well (Gabe needs to put his signature on the disasters). After a ton of screaming and carpet cleaning. I salvaged what I could of the supplies. An ounce here and there of cream and lotion left over, but no wipes survived. Let me tell you....both Colby and I scrubbed and scrubbed the carpet, but it still appears white from Desitin.

Are you up for another art project? Well, here it comes. This morning I got up to go to the gym at 4:30am. I arrived home about 10 after 7. I got the kids up and ready, and Braxton off to school. Then, after checking that all downstairs was childproof and the diaper bin was hidden, I went upstairs to take a nap while Gabe and Tristan were playing with toys and watching The Polar Express. They each had a drink and snacks, and I was napping with the door open, so as to here all. Several times I yelled downstairs for Gabe to come talk to me, since it sounded as though he was beating on his younger brother again. Usually he jumps at the chance to come in our room, but not once did he venture up as asked. So, I grudgingly got out of bed and trotted downstairs, mumbling under my breath that it was way too quiet. I find Tristan crying and wandering around with marker all over his clothes and face. Crayons and markers, pencils and a glue stick scattered through tout the family room. Where is Gabe? He is in the bathroom trying to wash the evidence off himself as here hears me coming down the stairs. They had colored with marker on their shirts, on Tristan's face, and on my microfiber couch. There was glue stick rubbed between all their fingers and used as hair gel on Tristan's head. Stickers were used throughout the room and kids. Tips of markers were bitten off, and pencil sharpenings were scattered on the floor. After more yelling, and sending Gabe to his room, I had to take a couple pictures before starting the cleanup process, again. I knew we would find it funny sometime in the future and wish we had pictures. Colby cleaned up the couch while I ran Tristan up to the tub. I think all is back to normal now, though I am missing a pair of scissors that Gabe says Tristan had. That makes me more than a bit nervous. By the way, I'm sure now, that the reason he was screaming like he was being beat up, was because Gabe was holding him down and sticking him in the face with a marker. Or pulling his hair while applying a liberal amount of glue stick to his noggin.