She finds some residue from a recent paint project and dips her finger into the delightful goo. I walk in as she puts the finishing touches on her cheeks. Hulk green streaks run from the corners of her mouth out to her ears on both sides. Two more streaks run at a diagonal across her forehead. She looks at me as I enter, and blinks.
An hour or so goes by and I find her in the tub, fully dressed, shaving cream smeared head to toe, and across the shower walls. It really is a wonder she didn't slip and crack her head before I caught her. I start to scold her, and those innocent eyes look up at me, and blink again.
Downstairs she has found my sewing machine at the table. I had left for just a few minutes, and now it is covered in salt and pepper from the shakers sitting near by. Again I shake my head at those gleaming, yet still so innocent eyes.
Later that night, all the paint, shaving cream, salt, pepper, and tears wiped away, I ponder life as a mother. Why do her eyes seem so innocent despite the mischief? Is it that they look so much like the ones that have stared me in the mirror for the last two and a half decades? Or is it that secret transmitted message behind them 'Mommy, you would have done this too'?
The thing is, they ARE the things I would have done. And she gets me every time. I laugh. And once I laugh, the scolding just doesn't hold the weight it should. So I turn away, compose myself the very best I can and turn back, determined not to let those innocent eyes get to me again.
Why is naughty so cute?
