I decided to call a good friend of mine after I finished lunch and while the Fries were still asleep, figuring I had a good forty minutes before anyone would be up. I knew we wouldn't talk that long, but at least it would be adult conversation instead of: "No! We don't take the cushions off the couch!" or "Do not pull your sister's hair!" or "No hitting!" or "You know you're not supposed to push the buttons on the TV!" or "Eat your lunch!" or "No no no no no! You do NOT 'drive the car' with the floor lamp!" (That's a new one.)
We'd been chatting for about fifteen minutes when I hear something I shouldn't be hearing.
"Auntie J!"
Two seconds later, Large Fry comes running pell-mell into the living room, proudly standing before me...
...when she's supposed to be sleeping...
...and still in her pack-n-play...
...and wearing her shirt.
ONLY her shirt.
No diaper. No pants.
Oh, and her toes appear to have turned green.
My eyes widened. "What are you doing up?" I hear my friend coughing on the other end of the line. His daughter was once this age (albeit a long time ago). "Oh, go ahead and laugh," I tell him. "All my other friends with kids laugh at me over stuff like this." He insists he's just coughing. Uh-huh. Riiiiiiight. "She's naked from the waist down, too."
"Auntie, where's my diaper?" Large Fry inquires with way too much innocence to be believed.
"I don't know where your diaper is." More coughing from my friend.
"Let's go find it!" Large Fry says with glee, and tears off up the stairs.
"Her toes are green," I tell him as I trail along after Large Fry. "At least, I think it's green."
"Not a good sign." I know him well enough to know he's stifling a chuckle.
"Especially since I think she got into my Sharpies for work."
"Here it is!" Large Fry shouts exultantly from the top of the stairs, holding up her diaper like a trophy.
"How did you get out of bed?" I ask, knowing I won't get an answer, just as I find her coloring treasure trove. Not green, but blue.
"Did you find the source of the green?" my friend asks.
"Blue, actually. She found my highlighter." He just laughs.
I herd my little nudist back towards the stairs, realizing we are in BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIG trouble here. She won't stay in bed now that she knows she can get out, and we can't have her getting into my office stuff. Marvelous. I hear whimpers from the twin Fries, and peek in. Crud. They're both awake too, and Small Fry took about an hour to settle down and go to sleep.
I get Large Fry downstairs and put her in training pants. No sense in putting the diaper back on her. I hang up with my friend and call Hubby as I go back up to get the twin Fries. "Your niece is blue," I say when he answers. I explain that she got herself out of bed and "cotored" all over her feet.
And leg.
And hands.
"Did she get a spanking?"
Um, no, dear. I was trying too hard to not laugh. (I think I failed miserably.) And given that she had nothing on below the waist, spanking would've been a little harsh, and by the time I got her into clothing, she would not understand why she's getting spanked.
Of course, now we just have to figure out HOW we're going to rearrange.
