I had worked hard to get the kids’ laundry done and the house cleaned before leaving to meet James in Zurich. Charlotte was napping (or so I thought) and Evelyn and I were playing a delightful game of Memory in the family room. A few minutes into the game, and about 40 minutes before the babysitter was set to arrive, I heard Charlotte’s feet on the stairs.
She was covered with nail polish–red, purple, pink–from head to foot, and it was all over her skin and clothes. She had gotten into the little bag that holds my nail accouterments, which was still out from the previous night, when I painted both girls’ toenails.
I knew that a mess awaited me upstairs, and I was right.
Let’s just say that I wasn’t happy about this.