Nothing gets off Sharpie

The other day I came home from work and I felt completely wrung out,  totally exhausted. 

“Mommy, can you play with me?” Sassy asked. 

She asks this every day.  Both feet weren’t even in the door yet.  I feel like a gazelle being stalked by a lioness.  Just imagine my front yard as the Serengeti plain and I’m sure you can picture it.

“Yes, honey.  First I want to change my clothes and sit down for a minute.” 

She makes me feel tremendously guilty.  It’s as if my playing Barbies or Littlest Pet Shop with her will complete her life, and all I want to do is sit down and read the newspaper and relax for a minute. 

This particular day, after I’d changed clothes and pulled my hair into a ponytail off my neck, I found her and  her brother watching Kung Foo Panda in the family room.  I sat down in a comfortable chair in front of the cooler vent and promptly feel asleep to the dulcet screaming of Jack Black as Po, the panda in question.

Remember when you were kids and you had a sleep over with some of your friends and after the first kid fell asleep you did things to mess with her?  Maybe you put her hand in warm water to see if she’d wet her sleeping bag, or you put her underwear in the freezer.

Then later in your adolescence or perhaps in college, the first person that passed out received a Sharpie mustache,or you put makeup on your guy friends.  Maybe you filled someone’s hand with shaving cream and tickled their nose.

All these things have in common is an unwitting and unconscious victim.

When I finally roused myself after approximately an hour or so completely zonked out in that chair, I found what my charming daughter had begun the tradition in style.

Both my fingernails and toenails had been painted.  Well, to be more precise my fingernails, cuticles and part of my first knuckle had been painted.  My hands were a lovely shade of mottled pink.  My toes were a veritable fiesta of color with each nail painted a different hue.

To top it off, all twenty nails had been graced with a sparkly gem.

How I could have slept through this is totally beyond me.  When I went to take it off, I found that she had applied multiple coats.  It seemed almost an eighth of an inch thick in places.  She was quite pleased with herself and her finished product.

And once again, Mommy had no one to blame but herself.  Beware the natives at my house, don’t fall asleep or it’s a Sharpie for you.