Todzilla returned today. I’m not sure why she reared her
ugly adorable head, but I know that I can’t let it happen two days in a row. Tomorrow must, must, be different. Why? Because I think I might send her to boarding school if she shows up again. And because I’ve given up coffee and wine for a finite period of time. Messing with MM (Mediocre Mom, for future reference) is virtually suicidal at this point.
Sigh. It started with my morning meeting. The Nerd and I teach kids’ church together, and I had a meeting this morning to discuss curriculum possibilities. Thankfully, our church has this amazing nursery with padded floors, a half-door with a child protective lock on the inside so they can’t escape but we can see in (love that), and a million brightly colored objects to
keep them quiet stimulate their creativity. I got Goo and Smush ready to head over, dropped them off in the nursery and sat down for my meeting across the hall.
Goo started crying. “I want to get out! I want to get out!” She is
a total drama queen emotional at times, so this didn’t faze me. I continue talking, until I hear a familiar sound.
Ba! Ba! Bababababa!
Smush is in the hallway. Why is Smush in the hallway? How is Smush in the hallway? I grab Smush and check the nursery door, which is securely closed. But on the other side of the nursery door is a chair. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize what has happened.
She’s back. Todzilla is back.
Goo didn’t want to be in the nursery. But that awesome half-door with the inside lock is really hard to maneuver. So she picked up a chair, brought it over, reached up and over the door, and opened it from the outside.
At this point I’m only halfway through my meeting, so I grab the baby and the monster and plop them on a blanket with some animal toys. Keeping them both in arms reach. Because now my beloved nursery is no longer an adequate safe haven. Darn you, Todzilla, and your crafty ways.
Fast forward through the lunch argument to bath time. Generally, I heart bath time. The girls are contained. They’re clean. They can’t escape without my knowing. It’s parental bliss, at least until you have to wash their hair and they act like you’re pouring sulfuric acid over their lovely locks. Anyway, bath time is nearing the end, so I go to grab a towel. Splash.
Todzilla had taken the toy bucket, filled it with water, and dumped it, twice, all over the bathroom floor. I literally step into a wall to wall puddle as I turn around. I contemplate bringing in Mothra at this point, but decide that might be a bit extreme.
A three minute time-out and we’re back on track. I somehow make it through dinner, and we all get ready to go to church for our Wednesday night service. I, once again, had something to take care of. Thankfully, I’m already aware that Todzilla has made her great come-back, and I’m poised and ready. No markers. No peppermint candy that you took off the piano upstairs. Nothing that can destroy or be destroyed. Todzilla can play with the air. That’s it.
As I’m working, a peaceful quietude settles in. I heart quiet. Unless Todzilla is on the loose. Then quiet = hellish outbreak of rampant destruction.
“Goo? Goo? Goo! Goo, where are you?!?”
Nothing. Not a peep. Not a trail of destruction. No sign of the child-like monster. Our church building is big. Two floors, gymnasium, more than a dozen classrooms and offices, main sanctuary, fellowship hall, you get the idea. There are a LOT of places a young monster can go. Including outside. Since she can open anything. Including that impossible-to-open safe from the Italian Job. I’m sure of it.
I start running, yelling, searching, panicking, running some more. I dash upstairs to where the Nerd is running audiovisual stuff and inform him that we’re missing our middle child. There are now probably half a dozen people combing the building in search of Todzilla.
“MM? I found her. She’s in the nursery.” What the what? She pitched a fit over being in there earlier. I looked in there already. Twice.
She was in the nursery alright. Hiding in a small hole in a piece of child furniture, underneath a slide. Devouring peppermint candy.
Todzilla went straight to time out for
destroying the city not answering me when I called for her and taking the candy she wasn’t supposed to. At the end of time out, she apologized and informed me that she had peed. In her pants. Under the slide.
Goo doesn’t pee in her pants. She’s been potty trained almost a year. But Todzilla does. Todzilla also runs into the bathroom after her time out is over, and strips from the waist down. She then runs back out announcing to everyone gathered in the hallway, “I did pee pee! I did pee pee! I did pee pee!”
The Nerd brought her home and put her to bed after that. I was done. I’m beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the time out chair on Todzilla. Where’s Mothra when you need her?