“Who cut the toothbrushes? We aren’t leaving this room until SOMEONE tells me the truth!” I had just bought them each a toothbrush with a tiny suction cup on the bottom. JUST bought them, like maybe the day before.
Well one of my girls decided to use the nail clippers to turn each suction cup into rubber fringe instead, defeating the whole purpose that I bought them. Margaret was 6; Hazel was 4; Audrey was 3.
“No dessert. And we aren’t going to the park, unless SOMEONE tells the truth. So I’ll wait.” I couldn’t tell who it was. Usually the guilty party will get squeaky-defensive voice or break down and start crying.
“Do I just need to give you ALL a spanking? Who did it?” I sat down in a chair with my arms crossed, facing them. Margaret’s tiptoes reached the floor; Hazel feet swung; Audrey’s knees didn’t even bend over the couch edge. All big eyes, all making eye contact…I couldn’t tell.
“You can be honest and only one person gets a spanking. Or do you want to let two innocent sisters get spankings with you?”
I looked from face to face. Hazel looked uneasy. Aha!
“I did it.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Years later, when the girls were probably 7, 8, and 10, Audrey told me the truth–SHE had cut the toothbrushes that day, and just sat and watched Hazel take her spanking for it. Well Audrey got her spanking 4 years later, and when I asked Hazel why she lied, she said she just wanted everything to be okay again. Hello Hazel.
Hazel Ann Charlotte, born August 9, 2003. She’s 12 now. She likes everything to be okay. She loves to save her money, go to bed early, keep her room clean, wake up early and bake muffins.
She is very easygoing about 95% of the time, but that 5%…whoa. We have learned that it’s best not to let her get too hungry, get a headache, or stay up too late. She CAN have a bad temper, but mostly when she was much younger.
I put the smallest amount of mascara and lipgloss on the girls. It was May 2006, Margaret was 4; Hazel was 2.5; Audrey had just turned 1.
Margaret was in her tutu, ready for her first dance recital. I was a little worried that Hazel might be sad/jealous, so I had bought her a ruffle-y new dress to wear and spent time fixing them both up.
Audrey didn’t feel left out. She had eaten her lipgloss off as I was putting it on her, and she was now playing with the tube–trying to either get the cap off, or chew a hole through the plastic. (She’s obsessed with lipgloss and Chapsticks now, and her addiction MIGHT have started that very day; to be honest, I’m not sure how much lipgloss she ingested.)
Margaret and Hazel were twirling in front of the mirror and admiring themselves. They looked so sweet and pretty.
“You girls look so pretty.” They both fluttered their lashes. Margaret had an I-know-smile; Hazel had a sweet, shy smile.
“Well…I-I look pretty.” Margaret said. Hazel scowled.
“Margaret. Hazel looks pretty too.”
Margaret looked at Hazel, twisted her mouth, said nothing, and then went back to looking at herself again. Hazel little lip started quivering.
“Margaret. Tell Hazel she looks pretty too.”
“But she has short hair.”
“Short hair isn’t pretty. Only long hair is.”
Hazel started crying.
“No baby…no, Hazel, you can’t wipe your eyes with mascara on! MARGARET! How would you like it if I said–long hair isn’t pretty; only short hair is pretty!?”
“I wouldn’t care. Because that’s not true. So I don’t care if you say that.” Margaret shrugged and held her hands out, palms up. Looking like…do you people hate truth?
Hazel tackled Margaret. Tights and tutus and ruffles flying.
“Aaa!” Someone knocked Audrey’s lipgloss chew toy out of her hand.
“GIRLS!! STOP!! Okay, okay…let’s get you all strapped down! Load up for the recital!” I would have to sort this out in the van.
Hazel, you were bald until you were two, so I think the small amount of short hair you DID have by the time you were 2.5 was soooo cute. Actually you weren’t completely bald; you had an old-man-horseshoe of hair around your head and sparse fuzz on top. Margaret and Audrey were also both bald until age 2.
Margaret might state ridiculous opinions as facts, but it certainly doesn’t make her right. Your short hair was precious.
Hazel helped Margaret lose her first tooth. Margaret wouldn’t let me touch it; the tooth had been dangling for days.
Honestly, I don’t remember what the fight was over, but I just heard screaming. Margaret runs to me with blood dribbling down her chin. Hazel stomps in behind her with an angry scowl on her face. Audrey is looking around like–huh? What’s all this?
“Aaaaa! My…AAAAAA!!” Spit, spit, cough cough cough, “Mommy! My tooth!!!!!”
“Hey hey…what happened?!” Margaret is drooling in both hands, her tooth falls into the drool puddle. Margaret can’t manage to talk through the drool and panic.
“I hit her in the face with a Bible.” And so we were all reminded–THIS is why we don’t anger Hazel. THIS.