As soon as she became mobile, Adam started calling her Hurricane Mo because regardless of how much time we spend cleaning and tidying and picking things up, our house still looks like we've been victims of a natural disaster. Just like a hurricane, she wreaks havoc on everything in sight, leaving total destruction in her wake. In fact, there have been times that I look at the damages around me and honestly wonder how anyone made it out alive.
The older she gets, the more fitting that name has become. This kid is seriously a force to be reckoned with! I cannot leave her alone for even a second because if I even take the time to... I don't know, blink... I open my eyes to find that she's taken all the laundry I just folded and scattered it across the living room or she's standing on the rocking chair ready to swan dive into a pile of Lego's. If it's possible to throw, destroy, mangle or climb on top of something - count her in! And if it's not possible? Well, she'll find a way.
One morning last week, as I was getting ready for work, I kept noticing these little white spots on my carpet: there was one by the bathroom, one by the front door, three on our new area rug. I was in a hurry to get out the door so I didn't take the time to investigate too much. I figured that The Mo had gotten into something, AS SHE IS WONT TO DO, and sprinkled the unknown substance throughout the house because she's fun like that. But whatever it was, it was going to have to wait because I was running late for work.
Besides, if anything needed my attention it was probably that baby who had an electrical cord hanging out of her mouth and was attempting to scale the refrigerator.
It wasn't until I got home that evening that I realized just how many of these little white spots there were. They were everywhere! I asked Adam if he had any idea what they were, but he was just as clueless as I was. I knelt down next to one of the biggest spots to further investigate. As I rubbed it between my index finger and thumb I was thinking it's kind of sticky, kind of wet, it feels like it's about the consistency of... I don't know... caulking maybe? Or.... partially dried paint!
"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this" I told Adam as I headed into the bedroom. And sure enough:
That's about half a gallon of paint you're looking at.
OH. YES. SHE. DID!
I had recently done some rearranging and touch-up painting in the girls' bedroom. I wasn't quite done yet and thought nothing about leaving the paint in the room until I had time to finish up. How our little Momar got into the can of paint that I had HAMMERED the lid onto, I'll never know. (I've previously mentioned her freakish ability to open anything.) Also, by what miracle did she NOT come out of the room completely covered in it? Turns out, the only paint she touched happened to be the small bit that she stepped in, then proceeded to track through the house (the mystery of those little white spots: solved). Words cannot describe how grateful I am that she decided to refrain from making a TOTAL mess if even just this once. The whole situation could have been A LOT uglier if she had really gotten down and dirty.
It was one of those moments when you don't know whether it's appropriate to laugh or cry, so you just stand there completely speechless. Well, I stood there speechless. Morgan laughed hysterically as if she had been hiding this huge secret all day and the satisfaction of seeing us discover it was just too much for her to handle.
Adam stood there quietly for a moment too, and when he did open his mouth all he could manage to say was, "Well, IT IS hurricane season."