Today I would like to share my joy. There's a new love in my life. It's not expensive but it's VERY valuable. You have probably heard of it, but if you haven't, I encourage you to go out and get one just like it right this very second. It's called GOOF-OFF.
My lovely mother-in-law Bev, the Queen of Clean who can recite the daily listings for HGTV by heart, recommended this magical product to me, so I had some in the house. I had used it for a couple of wall smudges and stubborn adhesive residue spots in the past. But today's challenge was far greater than any caked-on bandaid goo on the wall.
Rebecca came trotting into my room with red nail polish. (You can see where this is going.) She is obsessed with red fingernails, panics when it starts to chip, asks for a "refilling" of it regularly. (For the record, the nail polish was in the top shelf of the linen closet behind the plastic bin of "kid meds" and how she found it or reached it remain great mysteries.) I told her firmly that she should not have the nail polish, that we would repaint her nails after the bath tonight and to put it on my dresser so we wouldn't forget. I didn't think much about it for a while. Then I came downstairs to make a couple of phone calls. Down comes the Beckster, with red polish all over her hands and her dress-up dress. "Rebecca, where's the nail polish bottle?" "I don't know." "Please get it. Bring it to me." "I don't know where it is." "Where did you have it when it got all over your dress?" She shrugs. I am trying to contain my ire, picturing the entire bottle spilled all over the brand-new carpet upstairs. I follow the smell. In their room, there's a blanket in the middle of the floor. Underneath: a quarter-sized spot of bright red nail polish, nicely ground into the carpet and clearly oh-so-cleverly covered up by a conveniently forgetful redheaded 3-yr-old.
Steam from my ears. Deliberate disobedience. Stained carpet. Covert cover-up operation. Lying. Count to ten, Mommy. What would Super Nanny do?
"Rebecca McKee Marsh!" She slinks into the room, aware that the calling of her full name indicates true dissatisfaction.
"Rebecca, I am going to spank your bottom. I am going to spank your bottom because I specifically told you not to get the nail polish out, and you did. Then you covered up your spill so I wouldn't find it. You know better than this, don't you?"
She nods. "I made a bad choice."
On to Time Out first--never spank while angry, right?--which will last longer than the usual 3 minutes, because I am certain my anger will not be gone in 3 minutes.
I try nail polish remover first--much, much worse. Then carpet cleaner--no luck. Check the Internet--water and hair spray--wetter, but not better. Pet carpet stain remover--not even a little bit better. Then, the light bulb goes off: Goof-Off. Squirt it on, stain is gone! (If this is not the slogan, it should be.) I am pretty certain an angel choir sang at that moment.
At this point, it's been 15 minutes. I "spanked" Rebecca as promised, telling her again why. Super Nanny would be so proud of me for my calm-yet-firm voice (although I'm pretty sure the "spanking" part is not in her discipline methods--we do what we have to do, Mary Poppins!). She cried very briefly (a spanking from mommy is more effective as a threat), apologized and we hugged. Then I told her the truly damaging news: for 2 weeks, I would not allow her to have painted fingernails or toenails. Those are the privileges of a big girl, and this was not a big girl choice. She agreed that this was a "bad choice."
All is well now. She is anxious for me to come to the party she and Molly have set up in their room for me. As a gift for the hostess, I'm bringing Goof-Off.
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