Monday, 30 April 2012
The usual suspects
The baby monitor is the parent's best friend (apart from a full-time live in house-keeper slash child minder, but who actually has one of those?). I was in the kitchen when the three musketeers decided to go and play elsewhere. I was in a crucial stage of clean-up, with my hands encased in long rubber gloves and involving a broom and copious amounts of strong detergent after someone had tipped a whole mess of who knows what out of the dust-buster and onto the floor and painted a picture with the result, so I decided to let them go for it. They disappeared into the depths of my bedroom.
"Don't create havoc up there!" I yelled after them as a precaution that mainly satisfied my own misgivings only.
"No, Mama," they yelled back down. "We're not doing anything."
For a while, all was quiet, and I went on with the mess disposal. Then I had a brain-wave - switch on the baby monitor. The child-part of it is located in my room so that I can tell if they are going to sleep or not from downstairs, but it is normally off during the day. Nervously, and with my teeth, I managed to switch it on, my hands still out of action in the industrial-strength gloves.
And that's when I heard the fateful words from Sam: "And then if we move this, we can put all the animals into the tent too!"
I started running, but I was too late. Too late, as it turns out, to do anything about the makeshift "tent" built in the middle of the room out of the king-size duvet, all of the pillows off the bed, and inexplicably, a set of about ten DVD covers (minus the DVDs). How on earth, in the space of a few minutes, did that happen? And if not for the trusty monitor, what else could have happened?
It might have made the mess I was cleaning up in the kitchen look positively pretty...