Tattooed Baby!

I am the mother of a "tattooed" baby.

My baby, Bridget, is obsessed with markers. I have NO IDEA why her adorable little toddler fingers are constantly searching them out. I wish I could say it's because she has an artistic spirit and an innate affinity for creative expression. I wish I could say it's because she has a true painter's gift.

Um, no. She is mischievous. She is naughty.

On a quiet and very ordinary morning, I found myself in the basement folding laundry. Bridget was beside me, playing with a small pile of toy cars. Or so I thought.

Suddenly I felt something wet slide across my face, from the corner of my lip to my earlobe. I gasped and looked at Bridget. She was grinning at me with that delicious smile of hers. She had a "black Sharpie goatee" circling her mouth and sweeping down her chin. I found the object in question--the uncapped Sharpie marker--clutched in hand.

"Bridget," I shrieked, as I grabbed her and jumped to my feet. "What did you do?!?"

I bolted up the stairs with Bridget on my hip! James was in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal. "How bad is my face?," I yelled at him. "How bad is my face?!"

My bathroom mirror soon told me the answer to that question. I had a large black line running across my jaw. It wasn't pretty.

I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I have scrubbed and scrubbed marker off of Bridget's hands, legs, arms, and face. Blue marker! Red marker! Black marker! Green marker! I've found it on her feet and in her ears. I've washed it off her lips, kneecaps, and toes.

(Here's a tip: Neutrogena's eye makeup remover will wash Sharpie off of skin! That blue bottle has become my best friend.)

You might be thinking, "Why don't you just hide the markers? Or put the Sharpies up high and out of reach?" I have, people, I have! I have tried that.

She. Finds. Them.

Have I mentioned she's a climber?! She scales shelves like a seasoned veteran--like she's the "Expert Climber" of all the professional climbers in the "under three" division. She climbs onto desks, counters, and tables. She stretches her arms and pulls up on her tippy-toes to reach and get into everything. (Have I mentioned she is naughty?!)

So if you see me in the grocery store--looking tired, with multi-colored markings on my face--just smile and say hello. If I have Bridget with me and she, too, has multicolored markings on her face, don't give it a second thought. Maybe just give my weary bones a hug.

Then point me to where I can find the Neutrogena. 



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