Fast Turtle’s new tactic is diversion–whenever he’s doing something that he thinks he shouldn’t be doing, if we happen to peek in on him he quickly re-directs us: “In the kitchen, Mommy! Check email, Mommy!” Of course, we all play along, feigning an immediate need to check the kitchen or sit down in front of the computer. “Oh, the kitchen! Of course! Mommy needs to make some soup, doesn’t she? Never mind that you’re playing throw-the-blocks-behind-the-couch! Mommy can just hang out in the kitchen all day, that’s cool!”
Of course, far be it from Mommy to actually take this time to do anything productive. Like, say, laundry. It is surely the bane of our wardrobes that the laundry is in the basement, because the second that basement door creaks open (and it doesn’t even creak, really) Fast Turtle is all over me. “Upstairs! No Upstairs! Upstairs!” both terrified-you-are-leaving and yet twinged with longing-to-enter-the-forbidden-zone. Most of the time, I don’t even have the heart to correct him (I don’t know what your basements are like, but our basement happens to be downstairs, not upstairs), much less leave him sobbing at the top of the stairs while I throw in a quick load. Occasionally I give in and bring him downstairs with me, but since the basement is the forbidden zone for a reason–nasty, big spider crickets like this one (But, seriously, steel yourself before following that link. Doing it anyway? Okay, don’t say you haven’t been warned.) plus all manner of things-to-hide-from-children. Like staplers, the fax machine, cleaning supplies. Good lord, what did you think I meant?!?
I’m sure one day he won’t care less whether mommy is in the kitchen, in the living room, or in the basement. And that day will be the day when we all finally have clean underwear to spare. That might even be the day when he’s doing his own laundry. (Do they do that?) Until then, mommy will just hang out in the kitchen, sneaking peeks, and stealing the occasional kiss.