I’m Making Tracks

I had only been out of bed for about 2-1/2 minutes, so my brain wasn’t quite on yet. Ian marched into the living room slapping his feet on the floor and proudly announced, "I’m making tracks." It took a few precious seconds to compute what was going on. Lag time is a very dangerous thing when parenting.

He had broken into the paints for his model car set, spilled some blue paint on our new counter, and let it drip onto the wood cabinets into a little pool on the new hardwood floors. Then he stepped in it, tried to clean it up with a paper towel, and stripped down to his underwear, because now it was all over his pajamas. Somewhere along the line, he thought that making footprints on the floor was fun and forgot about the wrath of mom.

Certain phrases or sentences that come out of your kid’s mouth are an automatic code red. At this age, it’s "I’m making tracks" or "Do you know how many Cheerios can fit up my nose." Later it’s going to be "I’m not drunk" and "I’m staying at my friend’s house tonight and the parents are in Fiji." It’s good to work into these things.

3 thoughts on “I’m Making Tracks

  1. LOL!
    My dad’s favorite story is about my 2 youngest sisters, who at the ages of 1 and 4 got into a can of Crisco and spread it all over the kitchen floor and each other. My dad came in and yelled “What’s going on in here?” My sisters tried to run away but … at this point telling the story he basically breaks down into laughter.

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