Monday, October 20, 2008

Mastering the art of delegation

It's something that employers occasionally value. Something that can be very useful. A talent that can bring home the gold or send you to the unemployment line. Something that I've been perfecting over the years. Recently I've noticed that it seems to be something that my darling daughter is catching onto.

I am a firm believer that delegation should only be used when absolutely necessary. Like when you can't be bothered are too busy to get off the couch and ask Hotty Hubby to get your drink. Or when you dying of thirst and send your four year old to fetch a beer water from the fridge.

Girl Spawn has discovered a new use for it. I haven't yet decided whether I should be proud or horrified. Decision pending, stay tuned.

For her birthday in July, one of her little buddies gave her a lovely little mini armoire type thing. It came with nail polish, lipstick, and so on. Clearly all stuff that I would LOVE to have smeared on walls, bedspreads and furniture. Needless to say, Girl Spawn was under strict instructions that despite my great love and trust of her 6 year old abilities with nail polish, I think it might be better to keep them up high. Y'know...out of reach of her little brother right?

The other night as Hotty Hubby and I sat talking, the children played upstairs. I thought it unusual that there had been no screams of pain yet but figured it would eventually come. It usually comes fairly quickly. Sure enough, I was not disappointed.

*CRASH!*

Silence.

Girl Spawn: "Oh my gosh! CJ! Are you ok?! Oh my gosh! I'm sorry! CJ?"

Silence.

I looked at Hotty Hubby. "RUN!"

Silence.

Hotty Hubby: "Breathe buddy...just breathe"

Silence.

Girl Spawn: "I didn't do it! I swear!"

Silence...and then....a huge intake of breath, followed by an ear piercing scream from Boy Spawn. I hear Hotty Hubby asking the boy to squeeze his finger and just before I can comment about how now is NOT a good time to be doing fart jokes, I realise he said "squeeze" his finger. Testing for a broken arm? Interesting.

Seems Ash had decided that she desperately wanted the make-up. She desperately wanted it and she knew how she was going to get it. Send her brother up. That this would require him to climb not only the dresser but the shelves on top of that to get to the hidden treasure. It was as he climbed these shelves that he fell. About 4 feet down.

When asked why she didn't go get it down herself (because that would have been so much better) the darling child who so takes after her mother replied "It was too high and scary, I might have fallen".

Well. Of course. Silly me.

Boy Spawn did not, thankfully, break anything though he did come away with a bruised nose after hitting it on one of the million toys on his sister's floor. Yesterday when I noticed this bruise I commented that he had "really done a number on his nose!".

Ash promptly piped up - "Which number mommy?"

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6 comments:

  1. Oh my goodness! Why didn't she just ask you to get the makeup? Kids. Sheesh.

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  2. hahaha your daughter is a smart little girl!

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  3. Uh, number one. That's the number she did on his nose and that's the number she was looking out for while she did it.
    My kinda girl. Sorry to the son!

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  4. So, in theory you should have just given her the nail polish....

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  5. She's already managing the art of manipulation...A girl's best friend. But, now that she's found out, she's going to have to master it.

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