There are so many ongoing random questions that go on in any house with children. I would venture to say there are all different questions, but much the same. In my house it's questions like, "Why is (insert name of a particular food item) in the bathroom trash can?" or "Whose empty Publix soda can is this?" or "Who threw this perfectly good piece of half-eaten chocolate into the bathroom trash can?" You get the drill. These are the questions I find myself repeating day after day after day in my house, all the while knowing who and why and where, yet asking them anyway in hopes that these crazy children will wake up with some sense in between their ears and quit doing the things that aggravate the fire out of me. But they don't.
I don't know why my kids insist on throwing food items into the bathroom trash, but they do. And I don't know why I feel like I am the authority on what items belong in what particular trash can in the home, but I most certainly am. Food items just don't belong in my bathroom trash cans. I don't mind wrappers, but half-eaten bananas, Fruit Loops that Madalyn doesn't want to eat, spit out gum not wrapped in paper, Pop Tarts - these are things I don't like to find in the bathroom trash. My kids will bypass ten trash cans just to throw something away in the bathroom. I just don't get it. Both my kids had little trash cans in their room but lost their trash can holding privileges when I grew weary of cleaning food items out of the bottom. I have enough to do around here without having to worry myself with soaking a plastic trash can to remove the gooey inside of a chocolate Pop Tart.
I kid you not, yesterday I found an entire banana, uneaten, in the kids' bathroom trash can. I knew who the culprit was - definitely Madalyn for multiple reasons. David was at school, and the banana had clearly experienced trauma from a four-year-old trying to open it and not succeeding. So, instead of calling for Mama to help, she just threw it in the bathroom trash can. What a logical decision! So I found the banana and then I found myself saying these words aloud: "Why is there a whole banana in the bathroom trash can?"
The worst question to have to ask around here is, "Who threw away this perfectly good piece of chocolate?" It drives me insane, no matter what kind of chocolate it is. I bought two bags of York Peppermint Patties a couple of weeks ago thinking my kids didn't like them. Selfish, I know, but it's nice to have something in the house that they don't enjoy that you can savor for yourself. My kids quickly discovered that they do love the peppermint patties, and they also moved chairs to the high counter to reach them any time they felt the desire. I found countless half-eaten patties in the trash can, and I did not hesitate to explain to Madalyn that it is not right to throw away half-eaten food - especially dark chocolate covered peppermint fluff. I mean, times are tough, and she is piddling away a small guiltless pleasure. Is there nothing sacred to these children?
My kids probably throw away more food than they eat around here, and that is something that drives me up the wall, whether chocolate or not. Madalyn never hesitates to throw something away and tell me she has eaten it all. I hate to actually admit this, but I have retrieved a perfectly good sandwich from the trash can and made her eat it. In fact, I told her she would not be allowed to eat anything until she ate the sandwich. I am glad to report that she didn't die from the experience nor has she thrown away a whole sandwich since then. But that doesn't mean I won't find one next week - in the bathroom trash can, no doubt.
I have finally answered a burning question in my household - the one about the cat. Why was Millie - my dear, sweet, old-lady cat - eating from a torn hole in the bag of cat food? I have always kept her food on the top of her covered litter box. Always. But just the other morning, I witnessed her hesitation to jump on top of the box to eat. She just really didn't want to do it. So I politely moved her food down to the floor for her. Poor old lady. And I've been fussing at her for eating out of the bag - not that she really cares because she's a cat, but still, I was aggravated with her for no reason. So, mystery solved.
If only I could figure out the children as easily as I can figure out the animals.