This morning I found Elisabeth walking around the kitchen with chunks of butter on her fingers. I didn’t know where she had found it. I wondered what I had missed when trying to clean up the kitchen the night before. My housekeeping skills are not spectacular or perfect; perhaps I had missed a pat of butter that had fallen to the floor. Or perhaps she had stuck her hands inside the garbage. I wiped her hands clean and went back to finishing loading the dishes.
Then Abigail and Michaela called me again from the living room: “There’s butter on the sofa!”
Indeed, I discovered butter on the sofa. There, on the upholstery sat a stick of butter, unwrapped and nesting in a pair of white toddler socks. I had taken out some butter and left it on the kitchen countertop to soften for scones. Apparently, without my noticing or remembering, little Elisabeth had sauntered by the butter, reached up and grabbed it for herself. She unwrapped it and laid it on the sofa with her other treasure: her socks.
Little Elisabeth is providing us with her own set of adventures. For the other two kids I never have had to call Poison Control, but so far I’ve called them twice for her. The second time happened this afternoon: I found her eating toothpaste from the tube. Warnings on the label instructed me to call Poison Control so I did. She seemed fine. I’m grateful. And I’m grateful for our little Butter Fingers Baby…
