The Creative Daughter

I have this daughter. I love her very, very much.

I love her very, very much.

Sorry. Sometimes I have to repeat things.

Back to this daughter. I actually have two daughters, but this is the only one who is two right now.

Two is going to be the death of me. That, or it will send me running for the mental institution.

Why isn't mommy in any pictures when I was two?

It's because she checked herself into the mental institution and didn't come out until you were seven.

Harper's had her fair share of, um, creative days.

But last Saturday, I was guilty of letting Harper play quietly upstairs alone for about 10 minutes. In what I thought was her playroom, with what I assumed were dress-up clothes. Little did I know that either my Hot Husband or I had left the door to our bedroom open. Dane went up to check on her upstairs, and then I heard the words no mother of a creative 2 year old ever wants to hear:

"Mom! Harper got into the nail polish!"

No. The 30 bottles of nail polish in the zippered bag, in the drawer in the vanity in the master bathroom? Why would my precious, sweet girl bypass the room full of age appropriate toys, the dress up clothes and Duplo blocks and baby dolls, to dig around in her parents' bathroom and play with the NAIL POLISH??

No. Nonononononono.

I found her at the top of the stairs, proud as can be. I quickly picked her up, my arms straight out in front of me, carrying her to the shower.

Girlfriend had painted herself from her toes to her knees, her tulle dress-up skirt, her hands, and her face with (at least) four different colors of nail polish. Nail polish is all over the carpet in my master bathroom. The good news is, Harper is advanced in the area of fine motor skills. I can't even get those bottles open half of the time.

What. Am. I. Going. To. Do. With. This. Girl.

A couple other tidbits for the Harper Files?

Yesterday morning after I had gone to work, Brandon came downstairs at 7am to find that Harper had body-slammed her way through the baby gate to get into the kitchen, and was holding three half eaten hot dogs in her hands from the refrigerator. We have no idea how many she ate before Brandon found her. Three. Cold cheese hot dogs. At 7am

I wish cold hot dogs are the worst thing we have busted Harper eating from the fridge.

Yes, that is a stick of butter.

I love her very, very much. I love her very, very much. I love her very, very much.