Pacis, sippy cups, and toilet paper squares

Yes, it is still scorching hot in Barbados, but there are more pressing matters at hand.  Like, where is Virginie's pacifier?  Every day before we leave the house for any reason at all, there is the pat down--keys, pacis, sippy cups, snack traps?  This ritual takes place in millions, maybe billions of homes every morning and ours is no exception.  At any given moment, I can be caught packing four, five, six pacifiers at a time and found with Cheerios and goldfish crumbs in my bag and yet, as we are about to leave the house, there is always that search for the favorite paci or the fresh juice and snack trap.  I challenge some creative inventor with loads of time on his or her hands to make a homing device for sippies, snack traps and pacis.  Millions I tell you.  You'll never have to work again.

Juice cups, for both girls, get lost in the car, hidden under the bed, couch, on the patio, in the toy box, anywhere that is not in a backpack or lunch bag by the door.  Most times, Virginie has taken Lily's juice, had a sip and dumped said juice wherever she last had interest.  If she is not being followed around, which most times she is not, we can look for an eternity for that sippy cup and never have a real clue as to where it might be.  Whoever finds it feels like "the winner" until the contest begins again.


With the house as hot as it is, a left out juice can quickly turn into some fermenting beverage covered in flies and ants and the snack trap, if not a draw for the ants, develops into a cup of soggy treats in a matter of minutes.  But Chez Penn-Virot, we have something even more special than all those special treats... and those are really something to behold--the thousands of balled up, licked, chewed, and sometimes well-preserved toilet paper squares toted around the house by Virginie from the first moment she wakes up until we pry them from her tired little hands in the evening.


We are not sure how this habit developed, but toilet paper squares seem to be the first thing on Virginie's mind in the morning, well... after Mommy, Papa, and Lily.  She gets out of bed and walks straight to the bathroom for her two squares, one for each hand.  Depending on what she gets into during the day, those squares either maintain their original shape or they become soggy shreds of papier mache glued to her hands until a Goldfish, yogurt, or juice is presented.

In the master bedroom, she is met with a toilet paper roll lock which frustrates her to no end, but prevents full rolls of toilet paper from being commissioned into her army.  In her own bathroom, which she shares with Lily, the dispenser has been put up so high that even adults have to stand up to reach it.  In case I am not providing an appropriate image, picture an avalanche of snow cascading down the mountain during ski season and you will come close to the powder white of toilet tissue blanketing our home.


I once remarked that Virginie was leaving Cheerios all over the house like Hansel and Gretel to prevent herself from getting lost in here.  Well, truth be told, her mile markers are made in toilet paper.

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