Grease Monkey

All parents know that if kids are quiet they must be up to no good! This is especially true when you have a precocious two year old. Kids seem to have a magnetic pull to all that is messy, disgusting, off limits, or out of reach. So it was, that one day I was taking a shower. Phoenix was playing on the floor entertaining himself with toys on the bathroom rug. It occurred to me, at some point, that I had not heard him in several minutes and so assumed he had toddled off to seek some other play with his brother. It was not until exited the shower that I discovered the horror of his mischief.

With cat-like dexterity, Phoenix had scaled the bathroom counter and opened every container within reach. The scene was that of a mad apothecary at work. Lotions, perfumes, salves, hair gels, and hairspray lay scattered on the counter. But what alarmed me the most was the can of Bag Balm. The distinctive square, green can with flowers and cow udders sat open. Its sticky lid on the floor and its contents nearly gone. On the counter sat Phoenix grinning wide. In his hands gobs of gooey Bag Balm oozed. The walls above the counter were gleaming with the yellow, petroleum salve that filled the air with its antiseptic scent.

Remember the days at camp when you were a kid? Ever played that game where you grease a watermelon and try to do some ridiculous relay with it? This became the challenge of washing Phoenix. Water ran off his expertly greased body like water off a duck's back. My kid had become waterproof! I scoured the walls with similar difficulty. I used every cleaning product in the house to degrease the walls. I finally gave up and resolved to the fact that I was going to have a uniquely stained bathroom backsplash. When we moved from that rental house, I giggled at the thought of the landlord trying to repaint the bathroom. I envisioned him running the paint roller over the "stain" and seeing the paint bead up like sweat. He would never know the story of my little Grease Monkey.