I keep my eye shadows in a large Sterilite drawer unit underneath the bathroom sink. They're organized and easily accessible. Today I learned that they may be too accessible.
I used to wait until Ibes went down for his nap to shower, but since he's down to one nap now, it's not practical to wait until noon to get myself dressed and ready for the day. Most days, I can jump in the shower while he plays with a toy or reads a book in the bathroom. Sometimes he gets into the cabinets and drags out bottles of hairspray and mousse, and occasionally he will find a curling iron and drag it around by its "tail" like he's walking a dog.
This morning while I lathered up my shampoo, I heard Ibes getting into the cabinet.
"Whatcha doin, Pumpkin Pie?"
A muffled noise, then then I hear him walking toward the shower, making a little stuttering noise. When I open my eyes, suds run down my face and blur my vision, but I can tell that he's holding something small in his hand and he looks troubled.
"What do you have in your hand?"
I slide open the glass door and inspect his hand. He's holding a small black lid. It belongs to a MAC Pigment, which is a small jar of highly concentrated powder. He's still stuttering "Puh, puh, puh."
I peek around the corner to see the entire contents of this jar, which have been dumped on the bathroom rug. I can't believe he got the darn thing open in the first place, but I really can't believe he managed to spill the entire thing onto the floor.
It was the only thing I could think to say. I stomped my foot when I yelled, and Ibes immediately disintegrated into a sobbing puddle of toddler. His lower lip curled out, the bottom jaw crept outward, and the little teeth slowly came forward as he let out a wail. His eyes red, face suddenly wet, arms outstretched and grasping for me.
I turned off the water after quickly rinsing the remaining shampoo from my hair, and hurriedly climbed out of the shower. Wrapping my towel around me, I bent and scooped up the little guy in my arms. I took the lid from his hands and laid it aside. I wiped his face and kissed his wet cheeks.
"Mommy isn't mad, baby. It's just stuff. Mommy doesn't care about stuff. You're the one Mommy loves."
His cries slowed and he calmed down as I held him close and reassured him that I wasn't upset with him. I marveled that his tender heart was capable of being broken with just a few harsh words.
In no time at all, he had mentally moved on, and was all about playing with his car in the bedroom. I let him down and started to clean up the colorful mess on the bathroom floor. I made a mental note that the color he'd dumped was Tan (and not limited edition, thankfully - it would be easy to replace) and I was able to salvage a tiny bit that had fallen onto a smooth surface.
As I watched Ibes roll his toy car across the bed, I snapped a few photos to remind myself of this moment. I need these reminders of what in my life is precious. And those things aren't material.
|The remains of the pigment|
|The scene of the crime|
|He looks so innocent!|
|He knows I love him SO MUCH!|