Oh my freaking buckets of holy crap.

So, I thought it'd be fun to make play-dough today for Jonas. He helped me measure and mix the ingredients, and stir it up while it cooked. He was very proud of himself, but had no clue what we were making. Once it had cooled, I tried to get him to play with it, but he started crying and yelling "No dough! No cook!" Fine, whatever; I put it in Tupperware and figured he could play with it some other time.
I put on a Thomas video for him, and went to put his sister to bed. About 15 minutes had passed, and she was barely asleep when he started shrieking, like "I'm dying in horrible agony"-type shrieking. Bridget wakes up because I set her down so suddenly, and I run into the kitchen where I find that Jonas has:
1) Stripped himself naked,
2) Found and set up the stepladder,
3) Found and opened my misc. cooking drawer,
4) Filled the Tupperwares (with the play-dough) with water,
5) Emptied the blue food coloring into the red play-dough,
6) Emptied the spearmint oil into the green play-dough,
and
7) Dumped cinnamon oil down his front, including his boy-parts.
Hence the screaming. Cinnamon oil burns.
And then he got a bath.


*headdesk*
*headdesk*
*headdesk*

Not this one, too....

J was bathing while I tackled the hall closet (we're in the process of moving).  As usual, B decided she needed to be in the bathroom, too. I generally let her, as the bathtub is too tall for her to climb in, and J lacks the strength to pick up and pull her in. So, they play together and both get nicely soaked. The floor typically does, too.
I wasn't watching them totally, but could hear them playing happily, and was only about 10 feet away. They splashed and giggled, and occasionally I'd hear J giving his sister instructions ("No, baby, don' pway wif a boat." "Here, baby, take-iss a cup." "Spwash, baby!"). I poked my head in, and came across an interesting scene:
The toilet lid was up. I always make sure it's down.
The rest of the toilet paper roll was unrolled, and mostly in the toilet.
J's clothes were in the toilet. Various other articles of dirty laundry were spread about the bathroom floor.
All the drawers in the small cabinet were open, and emptied. The diaper covers, normally in the top drawer, were also in the toilet.

Here's the thing: J knows that if he gets out of the tub, the bath is over. That means that the perpetrator of this lovely mess was none other than my sweet, smiley, snuggly little B.
Thank goodness she hasn't figured out how to flush.