Baby oil removes “permanent” marker marks from skin. How did I come to acquire this little tidbit of knowledge, you may ask? Because I have a 3, soon to be 4, year old, that’s how.

Yesterday morning, Pumpkin somehow managed to access my purse, which was hanging on a rather high coat rack. Seems the child has gotten taller since we hung the pegs on the wall, imagine that. Anyway, the little pickpocket found one of my Sharpies, lucky for all of us she found the pink one and not the black one.

I didn’t find out about the theft until I noticed the silence. That eerie silence that occasionally descends upon the House; the kind of silence you hear in old Westerns when the notorious gunfighter walks into the saloon; the kind of silence that usually only exists in libraries or funeral parlors; the kind of silence that always means a kid is up to no good. Mr. Prairie walked in and asked what Pumpkin was doing and I decided that I should find out. Together, we opened her door and peered in just as she threw something under a box, spun around, and yelled, “Nothing!”

When Pumpkin yells “Nothing!” you can bet that it’s something, and it’s never a good something. She had stashed my pink Sharpie under the box, after liberally applying said marker to her hands, arms, lips (just like lipstick!), and bellybutton. We didn’t immediately discover the bellybutton thing. Mr. Prairie called out from the back of the House, “Check her bellybutton!” I did, and she had. Why she is so fascinated with coloring in her bellybutton I will never know, but this not the first time she’s done it so it wasn’t exactly a surprise.

Getting the stuff off of her was quite a chore. Scrubbing didn’t work, fingernail polish remover didn’t work, lotion didn’t work. I was down to my last idea so I gave it a whirl. So if anyone ever asks you how to remove Sharpie marks from toddlers, tell them to try baby oil.

Then just a couple of hours later, while we were shopping in Big Warehouse Club, we got a call from Monkey’s school. The school nurse called and left me a voicemail telling me that he had been in an accident at recess. She said that his lip was split and swollen, but that he had already returned to class.

Monkey looked like the losing side in a prize fight. His sweet little upper lip was very swollen and red and there was blood on his clothes. He told us that he fell face first on the blacktop while engaged in a rousing game of something he and his little cronies call “Midnight Joker.” I’ve never been able to determine the exact rules of “Midnight Joker,” but it seems to involve climbing to the top of the tallest piece of playground equipment, throwing oneself off of it, and yelling, “I’m the midnight joker!” I hate that game. And now I’m mad at that song.

So I started a new tradition, when a child get hurt in school, he or she gets special treat. I took him to the store and let him pick out some candy.

This morning the last thing I said to Monkey when I dropped him off at his classroom was, “Be careful!” Apparently he didn’t listen.

When I picked him up this afternoon his teacher greets me with, “You are never going to guess what happened today. Monkey tripped in the classroom today, got a big scratch under his eye, and hurt his lip in a different spot!”

Today, I bought him some ice cream. If he does this for a third day in a row I’ll assume he’s doing it for the snacks.

Wow. Has it really been that long since I last posted? I guess it has. Well, I’m still here and Oklahoma’s weather is still weird.

Today I woke to the sound of thunder. Expecting to see heavy rain to accompany that thunder, I was quite surprised to see, not rain, but snow. As a native Oklahoman I have experienced my share of odd weather (and then some), but thunder and snow is a new one for me.

The thunder continued to rumble occasionally while the snow fell thick and fast. It was a rather aggressive snowfall, not some much drifting gracefully to earth as it was throwing itself at the ground. After several hours of relentless falling, the snow was several inches deep and showed no sign of abating. Our plans for grocery shopping and general running-around had to be sacrificed upon the altar of practicality.

So we enjoyed a rare weekend day of not going anywhere. Of course I still had to go to work in the evening, but for most of the day we just took it easy. We did rustle up hats and coats and gloves and mittens for everyone so we could all go play in the snow.

We had a good time throwing snowballs at each other and building the world’s most pathetic snowmen. Really, calling them snowmen is giving them too much credit, they were more like mounds of packed snow with vaguely ball-shaped snow lumps on top. And then the big snowman met a sad fate as he was reclaimed by Monkey to make more snowballs.

Pumpkin made snow angels and I tried to kick the snow out from behind the car. You see, we don’t own a snow shovel, I don’t even know anyone who owns a snow shovel. This is Oklahoma and we don’t usually get these kinds of snowfalls. And the garage of the Burning Prairie is just too small to store a snow shovel that will see action about once every three to five years, if that.

The last time it snowed Monkey and Pumpkin didn’t get to play outside. The snow wasn’t as deep as it is today but it was sitting on a sheet of ice and it was much too cold to venture out. So they were thrilled to play in the snow today. Next time maybe I’ll plan ahead enough to bring a camera so everyone can see my babies playing in the snow. But this time I was having too much fun dodging snowballs and throwing some of my own to take pictures. You’ll just have to wait three to five years for the next big snow to come through.

Oh yeah, it’s supposed to get up to 54 degrees  on Sunday afternoon. Gotta love that wild, weird, and wonderful Oklahoma weather!