Glitter

I do believe that glitter is one of the most hated crafting supplies on the planet.  At least, by those of us who desire to NOT have it in our carpets for the next eight years.  However, I am such a dutiful mom that I have still purchased glitter, and even allowed my three and five year old to use it a time or two.  I keep it, and a few other supplies, in a small plastic pencil box, hidden in the top of our supply closet.  


Here's some background.  I have a three year old that is just... well... Clara.  She's Clara.  I was putting the baby to bed one night.  I handed her an itouch, and said here, watch one show, and then I will be back for you to put you to bed.  What could possibly go wrong?  Six minutes, yes, six minutes later there's a little knock on the toddler's door.  The door swings open.  There stands my Clara, shirtless, with a hammer, scotch tape and a pair of scissors.  Now, I pride myself on my ability to not overreact.  I had to accomplish this by standing in stunned silence.  She pipes up, "I have a small problem, a tiny one."  I said "oh, really?  What problem is that"  *pause* "I can't tell you.  I'll be in trouble."  *scampers off*


I put the baby down, and go a hunting.  This was about six weeks ago.  I never discovered what in the world was going on.  Okay.  Fast forward to this weekend.  Clara is self sufficient in pottying, and I don't help her anymore.  However, we were out together, and I happened to glance into the toilet.  "Clara... is that... is that GLITTER in  your poop???"  "Yup!"  "And how did it get there?"  "I ate it, so that my poop would turn glittery."  Well, of course!  Thank you, Flip Flap Body Book.  Needless to say, we had a discussion about how glitter is not for eating, and WHERE DID YOU GET THE GLITTER????  I tore apart her room later that night.  Buried in the bottom of the clothes I'm putting away for next year is my secret box.  Smashed open with a hammer, and scotch taped back together.  Huzzah!  I have discovered "the problem" that she had six weeks ago!


Today, I took her out to buy shoes, because nowadays shoes only actually last approximately three weeks before they become destroyed beyond recognition, lost, eaten by a cat, or in general destroyed.  I hemmed and hawed between two different pair, because of the ten dollar price difference.  Clara wanted the cooler looking ones.  I was frustrated and said "what do I get by spending an extra ten dollars???"  Because complaining to my three year old is a very mature decision, of course.  And she looks me dead in the eye.  "mommy, if you buy me sparkly shoes, I won't eat glitter anymore and I won't be sad that my poop doesn't sparkle."  


I bought her the shoes that are not only covered in glittery sparkly things, but also light up.  She seems pleased.  I am pleased.  She gave me the other vial of glitter she has been hoarding somewhere.  This is well worth ten dollars.