The Punisher

In preparation for their father coming home yesterday, I took my children to 5 Below for some shopping.   It was in part due to my daughter having caused "fatal" damage to a rubber toy she had named "Squirmy."  She wanted to use some of her own money to buy a replacement as well as likely some other things, what with our destination her favorite retail store.  

My son was somewhat less inclined to go shopping but we coerced him and, not surprisingly, once, inside the store, my son was quite happily shopping, making selections, putting things in the cart and then returning them to the shelves when he found other things he liked more.   

One thing I was surprised by was his choice of a bottle of cologne he wanted to get for his father.   My husband doesn't wear cologne and I don't have any perfume, so I had to explain to my son what the bottle he was holding was for.   I thought he would change his mind when I'd explained, but he was so taken bt the black box with the picture of the skull logo from the comic, "The Punisher" that he decided he still wanted to purchase it.  

The three of us smelled the scent and, given it was only five dollars, I thought it wasn't that bad.   We bought our items and I dropped the children off with my parents next and came home with our purchases.   I put each of the children's items in a bag at their seats at the bar and thought no more of it.  

This afternoon my son and daughter had been playing with Madison up in their closet.  Commonly the girls don't get along with my son and don't want him involved with their play because his ideas don't mesh well with theirs.   Today, they were doing something and having a good time together.   I heard lots of commotion, but seeing as there were no complaints, I wasn't overly worried. 

A mess was being made, of that I was sure, but they're children and they come part and parcel with messes.  They're fairly good about making messes that can be cleaned up and aren't damaging.  We've had a lot of conversations about what's okay and what isn't, such as food isn't allowed upstairs and nothing should be done that is destructive of walls, furniture or things.   Still, it isn't a good time unless some mess is made. 

A while later the girls came down and said my son had been spraying, "the bottle of vinegar" on them and wouldn't stop.  What bottle of vinegar?   The perfume, they said.   How many times had he sprayed the bottle of "vinegar?"  Oh, at least thirty, they said.  

I headed out of the room towards upstairs and was hit, immediately with the heavy smell of "The Punisher."   The children had all dissipated at that point, unlike the smell, to jump on the trampoline or do something else outdoors.   The smell only got stronger as I hit the landing on the second floor.   The closet door to their room was closed and I could barely force it open, finding all the pillows, blankets and sleeping bags laid out in their closet, which had been turned into the newest, "secret hideout."

I went downstairs where my husband was, gave him a rundown of the situation and since he'd been out of town for a week on vacation and I knew he'd missed handling things like this, said, "you're up."

I texted Madison's parents explaining what had happened and that my son, knowing nothing about cologne, hadn't realized two sprays was enough for a day.   I got a text back saying, "it was hair washing night anyway." 

My husband opened the windows and brought the large fan down from the attic to try and drop the level of "The Punisher" in the room to a tolerable level.   We told my son about appropriate cologne usage later at dinner.   He understood.   He also said, "it tastes like vinegar."

The Big Boy Update:  My son, having lost YouTube privileges for the foreseeable future spent some time last night and this morning watching documentaries with me on my new favorite streaming service, Curiosity Stream.   We watched two shows on the history of the continents from a geological perspective and then put several more things on our watch list that we plan on watching together in the future.  He and I love documentaries.  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter damaged her new favorite toy "squishy" by cutting a flap off that she'd broken by playing with it too roughly.  She accidentally cut through it and had punctured it, causing it to deflate.  She was quite upset about it.  She said to me in a piteous voice, "I'm such a fool!"   We talked about things not lasting forever, which was upsetting to her.   She decided to rename her toy to, "Ghost Squishy" after she bought a second, replacement Squishy at 5 Below.