I just gave Miller a half of a peanut butter sandwich and a banana for her snack (she has a snack for lunch and lunch for a snack- don't question the method or the madness, there's no answer). Our social worker is allowing us to do our parent training online so that we can complete it ASAP instead of waiting on there to be enough families at the same point in the process as we are to have a live class. We've complete a couple of the classes so I sat down at the computer to try and print our completion certificates for our file. I realized after awhile that Miller has yet to reappear covered in peanut butter looking for something to do. I assume this means she's roaming the house spreading her peanutty stickiness. I lean slightly back and to the left in my chair to see if I can see her.
There she sat. On the floor. At the bottom of the stairs. One complete piece of bread, unfolded, with less peanut butter than when we started several minutes ago. Two little feet covered with MUCH more peanut butter than when started several minutes ago. She had literally painted the bottoms of her feet with peanut butter. I scoop her up and take her to the sink to wash her up. Under my breath I say "what am I going to do with you?". Casually, and under her breath, Miller replies, "spank me".
This reminded me of the time when Wilson was a baby and we left Tate the dog unattended in the house for a while. We came home to find that he shredded a board book about dogs to pieces. Well, almost. There was one page left intact and face up on the rug. The page read, "Dogs need a lot of attention."