The Terror

I was jolted out of bed this morning with a yell from Brian. "where all has she been?!" "She" being The Rose - Terror of the Byars' House. "She" has been taking herself to the potty. "Good for her!", you say. But you don't realize that that means that she removes her diaper in dry, wet, or messy state wherever she happens to be when she feels the need, and then goes to the potty, and then runs around the house - all without informing anyone.

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So this morning she was the first to wake up, took off her messy diaper on the white play rug in the corner of her room (where I was sleeping with the girls, but never heard a thing), sat on the potty, then crawled across our quilt and into bed with Brian, who put his arm around her and didn't feel a diaper, just...something else. That's how he woke up this morning.

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A few loads of laundry, a Rosie bath, and three kids ready for church later, she ran into the living room and began scrubbing the couch with - THE TOILET BRUSH! It is a good thing that it is slip covered or I would have been disinfecting all day! Needless to say, we were late to church.

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She can undo deadbolts, unlock, and open doors. She can open the frig. She can climb up onto the kitchen counters. She rarely does the same thing twice. She can think up more new things to do than anyone I've ever met. A terror. In pigtails.