I'd like some sprinkles with my sprinkles, please

You may recall that I have a freakish love for make-your-own-ice-cream-sundae parties. That means that we are loaded up with toppings in our house -- toppings in the fridge, toppings in the pantry, toppings, toppings everywhere! One recent morning was particularly chaotic around here. Elizabeth had a class trip to the fire station, and I felt like I was running around all morning trying to find her school t-shirt, find pants she could wear with the t-shirt, get myself ready, get everybody else ready. It was sort of like our usual morning on steroids. Well, I finally got Elizabeth ready and went to get myself dressed, and when I came back into the den, I saw this:



Oh yes, you are seeing that correctly. That would be Elizabeth chugging sprinkles straight out of the jar. I think I screamed and said "ELIZABETH!!!!! We DO NOT eat sprinkles straight from the jar!!" (Query: do you think I undercut the seriousness of my "no sprinkles" message by stopping to snap a picture before delivering the message? Just askin'.)

Well, apparently the answer to that would be an affirmative, because later that day, after we had arrived home from dance class and I was again back changing my clothes (I swear that this whole working part-time thing causes me to change clothes more times a day than Marilyn McCoo), I came back and saw that Elizabeth had once again gotten into the sprinkles.


Apparently she had focused on the "straight from the jar" portion of my earlier message, rather than the "we do not eat sprinkles" part, because as you can see, she poured the sprinkles into a bowl this time.

Really Elizabeth? Straight-up sprinkles? That just can't be good. At all. This whole experience further supports my theory that while children ARE little human beings, they really just aren't like the rest of us. The sprinkles (what's left of them, anyway) are now on a high shelf in the pantry.