Powdered Baby

Now that I'm going to write all the time (right?? right??? like EVERY DAY, ME) I'm trying to work out a schedule. This is difficult, because my days are already pretty jam packed with picking dried food off of the kids, dodging chucked Lego bombs and trying to ignore the kids altogether to watch Dr. Phil and fold laundry. Really, the only free time I have is during nap time, sweet sweet nap time, that brief hour and a half in the middle of the day when only ONE child is awake, and he is old enough to be bribed into submission with chocolate milk and free reign of the TV. Unfortunately, little Rosie does not always agree with my definition of napping, which involves her total submission to sleep in a quiet and orderly manner and not making a noise for AT LEAST an hour. She seems to think that by 'nap' I mean the total destruction of her crib and anything that lies within arms reach, including the piles of crap that always cover her dresser, stacks of diapers, stuffed animals, boxes of wipes and baby powder. Yesterday after 'the hour' I went up to find her on a bare mattress, naked, covered in powder, her pillaged booty (including her own bed sheets and dirty diaper) covering the floor around her crib in mountains, capped off with two tubs worth of wipes draped like crepe paper over the whole mess. Apparently she had been trying to clean up the powder with the wipes, and lord knows it takes TWO TUBS worth to do the job. (That's over 600 wipes, people! And I am cheap! I will use them again anyway! They're pre-powdered, now, as far as I'm concerned.) She was singing herself a song, rubbing powder into her armpits with a wipe. As she caught sight of me she looked up and said "I smell pretty now, momma! Smell! Smell!", punctuating her statement by jabbing her finger into her pit, encouraging me to take a whiff. And really, how can you argue? A lovely baby armpit? I wanted to eat her like a chocolate truffle, a pudgy, juicy one, because although the mess took me an hour to clean up, she gave me MY hour first; she couldn't sleep but she didn't cry or call out to me. She sat and entertained herself for a FULL HOUR, and by God, can you really ask for anything more from a two year old? I think not.