I was angry, I was worried, and I was laughing hysterically. The whole saga began in the morning when Sensei wanted to use the fingernail polish (all by herself) to paint her fingernails. No, I told her. I had a baby shower to attend and I was running late, maybe later. Later came sooner than I had expected it to and Sensei was once again perched in front of me requesting to paint her nails. All I really wanted to do was read my book (uninterrupted) but I reluctantly agreed.
I gave instructions for Sensei to pick out her polish color and get a bath towel to put on the dining room table. I told her to paint her nails, screw the lid back on tight the minute she was done, and get everything back in my closet before The Wiz woke up. Ten minutes later Sensei was nowhere in sight but I could hear her opening and shutting the cabinet doors in my bathroom. I yelled from the living room to ask Sensei what she was doing. “Nothing!” was her reply as she quickly pushed the bathroom door all the way shut and locked it.
Faster than NFL player Willie Parker I was at the bathroom door demanding it be opened immediately –NOW! Sensei opens the door trying to cover her face but plain as day I see the “hooker red” nail polish all over her face. She looks like she’s gone toe to toe with a Sioux Indian tribe. On the bathroom vanity I see Palmers Stretch Mark lotion, witch hazel, and yes, the kicker KY Jelly, her products of choice to try and remove her crimson artwork.
Long story short, I call Poison Control because I am fairly certain we should not use nail polish remover on her face. I can’t contain myself any longer and burst into a fit of hysteria as I hear myself say, “She just didn’t fully understand the properties of nail polish, I guess.” I’m laughing, Geronimo is laughing, and Sensei is in the closet yelling at us to quit laughing. We can’t contain ourselves.
The Poison Control operator isn’t laughing but instead silently typing in my name, phone number, daughter’s name, age, weight, my dress size, square footage of our house, if we’ve taken any parenting classes lately, you know the standard. I suddenly see myself back sliding, my hopes of becoming mother of the year disappearing right in front of my eyes. I start to wonder how many times can you call Poison Control before they submit your name to the authorities for questionable parenting practices.
At any rate, the professional advice I received was to wash her face with soap and wait for it to come off on its own. Right, as if Sensei is going to go out into public looking like a Geisha girl. Instead, I make Sensei pose for a picture promising she’ll laugh about it when she’s older and get to work on her face with a bottle of olive oil and a washrag. The removal is fairly quick and painless; I’m actually quite impressed with my own cleverness.
By the way, if you see hindsight anywhere let me know, I’d like to have a chat.