Kids are dumb part 2

Remember this post from last year--the one where Rex used a metal spoon to unplug Greg's computer

and then lied about it. (Excuse Blogger's formatting.)  

Well, this post is the Alice version.

Picture the scene: Wednesday, dinner time.  Rex is finishing his homework and cleaning up his school work, which, as you well may have guess had mysteriously tip toed out of his back pack and all over the room.  Greg had just gotten home from work so I was in the middle of my daily complaining session about how much I hate everything (I've recently noticed how negative I am about everything--EVERYTHING) and don't want to go to Mutual that night.  I am also trying to make dinner and feed Henry and leave for Mutual an hour early to pick up some girls on the other side of town.  If I haven't quite conveyed the scene by now, I'll just say it--it was chaotic.  

In walks Alice with her finger up her nose.   I remove her finger.  Finger back in nose.  Alice, knock it off that's gross.  She puts her finger right back up.  After several more rounds of this, I finally look in her nose and what do I see?  Something shinny and metal.  Luckily Greg was home, because I was about to stick her in the car and drive to Urgent Care and spend her college tuition money to get it out.  Greg, however, thought more clearly than I did.  First he tried to have her blow it out.  It made some movement.  Then he ran out to the truck and can back with a magnetic telescoping pole.  "I knew this would come in handy," he says.  Finally his impulsive check-out purchases paid off.  He holds the pole to Alice's nose and out pops the screw.  

The hero and his pole.

the offending screw and 3 washers

Kids are dumb.

Then this week.  We're staying in a high rise condo complex while we visit Greg's grandma at the beach.  On Saturday, we're wrangling kids, some aunts and uncles, pool toys and sand toys as we slowly walk down to the beach.  Greg is making good progress when I stop him to coordinate with him.  Alice and Rex do not stop.  And then Alice is gone.  We decide that she must have gotten on the elevator.  We then watch the elevator go up to the 8th floor (we were on the ground floor) and debate whether we should try to beat it up via the stairs all the while hoping she doesn't get off on any of the floors.  Then it starts back down.  So we wait.  And there was Alice, and a friend she'd made when she had gotten out of the elevator a little distraught on the 8th floor.

That's the most lost a child of mine has ever been.

It's a good thing she's so cute.