The Look

I've always been told I have this "look." This look that I can give people and they'll know exactly what I'm thinking. And trust me, that's never a good thing because when the "look" appears it's because I'm ticked. And wherever that irritation is directed, the subject always knows it.

I never really thought about it, but I always knew that it was true. You can read my face like a book if I'm upset. I don't know how to hide it, or change it. It's just written all over my face.

I learned last week that Dylan can read. Maybe not words in a book, but she sure can read my face if that "look" is on it.

Dylan has had the lovely habit recently of getting out of her bed during naptime. She doesn't ever get out at night, and until last week, it has never happened. But now she is getting sneaky. She gets out of bed and turns around the motion sensor we have in her room. That way, it doesn't alarm me each time she moves. It gives her free run of her bedroom. Not good.

I walked into her room the other day and this is what I found.

It would be an understatment to say I wasn't frustrated with what I saw. There were so many things wrong with what was going on.

First, she was out of bed. That's the big one.

Next, there's that little blue bucket you see in the second picture. That had been full of clothes. All of the clothes you see on the floor in the first and last pictures. They had been folded nicely and ready to be put away because they are clothes Dylan no longer fits into.

The next thing was the books on the blue bucket. Dylan has a nasty habit of ripping apart her books. All of her books. Even board books. She pulverizes them. It's awful. Therefore, all of her books are put away...or at least they were until she got them out.

After that came the fact that her blinds were open and her wave machine was off. The wave machine I get. She can reach that and turn it off. But the blinds?? Look at the blue bucket again. And look at the proximity to her changing table. Yup. My girl finally decided to start climbing. She stepped on the bucket, got onto the top of the changing table and opened her blinds.

All of that added together apparently resulted in the "look." Because that's all it took. Dylan knew as soon as the door opened she was busted. And I was all prepared to get angry and explain that what she did was so wrong and that she needed to go in time out. I didn't even get that far. I looked at her. That's all I did. I promise.

This was the result.

I just looked at her. This was how she remained for 43 minutes. No joke. She screamed and cried for 43 minutes. I looked at her, she knew she did something wrong, and she cried for 43 minutes. It was the easiest punishment I never had to dole out. I'm sure she learned her lesson.

Until it happened again the next day.