Wednesday, December 13, 2006

"Popsicle Sticks Galore"

I tickled my darling baby's toes as I changed her little diaper. She giggled and smiled up at me. Baby Girl had just woken from her afternoon nap, and was ready and eager to face the world.

As I pulled socks onto my baby's tiny feet I heard a CRASH! in the kitchen downstairs.

"Popsicle sticks galore!" my preschooler called out happily. His cry was followed by the soft tinkling of a thousand popsicles sticks raining down onto the floor. I heard my toddler giggle.

"Ahhhggg! What are you guys doing?!" I yelled. I grabbed Baby Girl and raced down the stairs. I nearly tripped on several popsicle sticks haphazardly deposited on the steps.

I rounded the corner and entered my kitchen. I nearly fainted. One thousand small, wooden popsicle sticks covered every surface of the room.

They carpeted the floor, decorated the counter and lay across the table. Popsicle sticks were strewn across the top of my piano. They were under the fridge and crammed between the couch cushions. I found wooden sticks resting in the branches of our Christmas tree. Even Baby Jesus' manger scene sported popsicle stick accents.

My boys, the co-conspirators, grinned up at me. "Fun, Mommy, fun!" the two-year-old exclaimed.

I sighed in defeat.

I suppose that's what I get for buying an economy-sized box of popsicle sticks to make giant M&M cookie pops. It also probably didn't help that I allowed my preschoolers to help me sort M&Ms as we mixed the cookie dough. (Funny how fewer M&Ms made it into the cookies than into their tummies.)

I gingerly worked around the carnage for the remainder of the afternoon. My boys had a ball depositing popsicle sticks throughout the house.

... and my dear husband cleaned it all up when he came home in the evening.

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