Wordless – oh wait, no, Pictureless

This is such a travesty! I cannot find my camera.

Further, I can’t find it AND I have an awesome Wordless Wednesday situation going on upstairs. I can’t leave it this way forever, but I so want to share it… What to do, what to do…

I shall just tell you about it.
In fact, I’ll give you a blow-by-blow account of how *I* found out about it.

TIME: Tuesday afternoon.

SETTING: A Dear Friend watched my kids for me while I visited a different friend for about 45 minutes. Yay! It’s always lovely to do something like Visit Teaching w/o kids in tow. Plus, DF’s two daughters had already been over playing all afternoon with Cinderella. All in all, a great situation.

I get back and notice two things:
1 – Cinderella is wearing different clothes. Not a big deal. She hardly ever stays in the same outfit all day, especially with friends over who like to play dress-up as much as she does.
2 – Her hair looks dusty. So dusty it’s almost a different color. That’s odd. I didn’t notice it being that way before… Although, they had been playing outside pretty much all day up until I left, and it was a VERY windy, dusty sort of day.

The plot thickens as I feel that short, red hair. Hard to describe, but it definitely feels weird. It’s not a dry, wind-blown, rolled around in dirt and sunshine feel. It’s more an almost-greasy, textured feeling. I keep feeling it, wondering aloud what’s got into her hair, thinking it almost feels like…

“Makeup!” she says.

Sure enough, upon a closer inspection, underneath that hair her scalp looks covered in foundation. But I normally use a liquid foundation, what’s going on?  I seem to recall that the last time she had a friend over, they got into my “secret” makeup upstairs.

Doodle jumps in to the conversation he can see brewing, “Don’t tell her!”

Cinderella gets that all-too-familiar smirk on her face, but she doesn’t say anything. I’ve got that all-too-familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Oh, boy, here we go again…

“What happened?”

You can tell she’s thinking about hiding the truth, but knows I’m going to find out anyway. Smart girl that she is, she comes out with this:

“You know that makeup in the plastic container with dividers in it upstairs? We had a party with it in the bathroom.”

Parties mean celebrating, and “celebrating” means throwing something up into the air like it’s confetti. UH-OH…

“It’s all gone now. I threw it up into the air and it went all over!”

Her eyes are lit with the joy of reminiscing. Must’ve been a pretty good time.

I’m… not saying anything. (If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.)
I’m trying not to think about my nice mineral powder foundation, in several shades, that I only bring out when I have a great reason to. (Hence, it hides in the upstairs medicine cabinet.)
I’m trying not to think about what a nice product it was.
I’m trying not to think how I’m very unlikely to replace it with something that nice any time this decade.
I’m mostly trying not to think about what the bathroom must look like now.
I’m mostly thinking,
“Well, it’s just stuff. Stuff I hardly use anyway…”

And mostly, it worked. I confess I was a little mad at first, but it was easy to keep it stuffed inside while I shepherded my little protesting, powdered, creative genius into the downstairs shower. In fact, the anger melted away pretty quickly as the rational part of my brain started thinking,
“What kind of consequence does this call for? Hm…”

And yes, I really would like input.  PLEASE!  What would you do?!?!
Cinderella has been informed that in addition to cleaning up the bathroom that looks like… um, looks like… well, you don’t want to know… so yes, in addition to cleaning it up, SOMETHING will happen.  Soon.  Thankfully, she’s old enough to understand a delayed consequence like this.