After dinner, I cleaned up the kitchen. I instructed Samantha to put her pajamas on and Ella to pick out a pair and meet me at the changing table in the nursery while I changed Penny.
Samantha ran to their room and I started to change Penny.
“Ella,” I call, “Pick out some pajamas and bring them in here.”
“Ella? What are you doing? Pick out some pajamas.”
“Ella!,” I shout. “Come pick out pajamas and bring them here!”
“Ella! What are you doing? Are you okay?”
I finish with Penny and put her in the crib then run towards the kitchen, the last place I had seen Ella. No Ella.
“Ella,” I say, a little panicked, “Where are you?”
I started to run toward the girls’ room, then catch sight of something out of the corner of my eye on the chair near the bookcase. There is Ella, frozen, sitting on the chair, with that look that says she knows she’s in trouble, but it’s worth it. One finger still in her mouth, the other hand holding a bag of dry pudding mix. I look down and see a trail of pudding powder from the kitchen to the chair.
Our eyes meet. I dash towards her as she plunges her hand into the bag and begins to shovel as much as she can into her mouth. A cloud of pudding dust surrounds her head. I grab the bag, more pudding spills.
“Time out!” I yell. “No! No! No!”
She jumps off the chair and runs to the time out chair in her room. She sits there, quietly, no arguing, while I vacuum up the pudding.
The pudding box had been next to the stove, a previously unreachable spot for Ella. No chairs had been moved, she’s simply grown tall enough to reach most of my counter space. She’s only two. I’m going to have to remodel soon to keep little hands off my stuff. Maybe five foot high counters will work. I should still be able to reach them.