You know how when you're little ones are quiet it's never a good thing? I do.
While I was in the middle of my Danish lesson (more on that later) Anna, my instructor, says, "Do you smell that? It smells like alcohol?"
I took the first couple of moments to recall whether or not I'd been drinking this morning. No....I hardly drink at all let alone in the morning. Then I suddenly realized I had forgotten one small detail when I picked up the house this morning in a last minute attempt to make the place somewhat presentable for company.......THE BAG OF FINGERNAIL POLISH!
After passing out from the panic attack, I scrambled into the living room in the same fashion the Road Runner escapes Wile E. Coyote, legs spinning in that blurry circle. Yet, it must have been slow motion because I had time to envision the wood floors covered in a kaleidescope of colors...and the walls...and the furniture (some of which doesn't belong to us)...and many other unpleasant scenarios.
When I got into the living room I first looked down at the floor. Whew, not a drop. Then I saw Emma, both hands stiffened and pinker than usual. And the couch. Ohhhhhh, the couch. It's a good thing we never gave in to that crazy impulse to buy new furniture. We decided it was best to wait until the kids were done with sippy cups and poopy diapers and the like, all of which don't mix well with lovely new furniture. Good call!
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