More Glitter

By The Red Tent, August 5, 2015

The inside of our vacuum cleaner looks like a mardi gras party. She started small – a few shakes of glitter mixed with water to paint with, little flecks dropping to the floor here and there. It was civilised and decent. A week passed, seeing her slip off to ‘do glitter’ several times a day, and I affirmed the past time because it was imaginative, self-directed play.

Meaning, I could make a coffee and scroll through Instagram in peace.

It got messier and messier, glitter covering the top of her craft table and spilling to the floor, gradually getting walked into our carpet. Joel said to me one night, “Um, Rach? I had six clients today tell me I had glitter stuck in my beard. Do you think maybe it’s time to stop the glitter?” But still, the jars of rainbow sparkly sprinkles remained on her craft table because you can take the glitter from the girl but you can’t take the girl from the glitter.

Is that the saying?

Anyway, the point is — I didn’t mind my glittery carpet and shiny husband, until a certain female child who, for the purpose of privacy protection shall remain unnamed, pulled a full 180 on me and dumped the entire contents of all the glitter jars on a big mound on the floor, inviting child number two – also remaining unnamed – to just take a roll around in it and oh I don’t know – throw it all over our house – and I don’t even know what happened or when or how or why but I blame Frozen because I think they thought it was snow and it definitely was not snow. Do you see Olaf, kids? No? You don’t? That’s because it’s 25 degrees out and that there what you have in your hands and hair and eyelids IS GLITTER.

Our home has become a glitter-free zone for one week. Now Joel’s friend at aikido can stop asking him if he’s been to ‘the strippers’.

Some shiny specks of metaphorical glitter today — these two babies of mine, this little family, and the days we spend together.

“Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colours, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.” — Rainer Maria Rilke