Why I’m moving my nail polish
Carson didn’t get into stuff like Betsy does. At least I don’t remember him doing it as much. He did open the cabinet that had the kitchen dish towels and take them all out and he pressed buttons on the cable box and DVD player. Betsy does all of that, and more.
Recently Betsy has enjoyed taking out nail polish bottles from the bag under my sink and holding them, knocking them together, sticking them in her mouth, etc. I figured there’s no way she’s going to get one open (a hard task for myself sometimes), and no chance she’d break one. I’ve dropped nail polish before and the bottles have never broken. How could a baby break one? While sitting on a soft rug? No way that’s going to happen. Anyway, I was standing here getting ready for a dinner date with Ben when I looked down and for a split second thought she was bleeding, but soon realized she was sitting in a pool of red nail polish. We got her cleaned up for the most part, the back of her thigh still slighting red since red polish has a way of hanging around on your skin even after your best efforts to get rid of it. And other than the damage done to this rug that was the extent of it, so it wasn’t a total disaster. My nail polish has now been moved to an unreachable place in the cabinet. Sorry, Betsy. I know it was the greatest toy ever.
Tonight Ben and I went to dinner at Taste of Texas, a steak house in Houston that boasts cowboy hats, red bandannas, a ridiculous salad bar, huge desserts (get the snickers pie to go so you don’t get sick) and most importantly, tremendously delicious steaks. We had a gift card that Ben got for his birthday last year. Thanks, Elaina! It was nice to go out together without the kids. Thanks for babysitting, Rachel!
