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Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Creating Polish Sniffers AND #Winning!

First up, the #winning - which is not to say that creating polish sniffers is #winning, because it is not.

Thanks to everyone who entered the KTAS giveaway (and thanks to Edelman and KTAS for making Not a minivan and her brakes good as new).

Without further ado (because there's just far too much ado around these days, am I right?), the #winners....

  • $100 KTAS Voucher - Michael D
  • $100 KTAS Voucher - Brad G
  • $50 KTAS Voucher - Tracey Drescher
  • $50 KTAS Voucher - Sharon Revell
  • $50 KTAS Voucher - Michael Noakes
  • $50 KTAS Voucher - Lucy Leland

Merry Christmas from me to your vehicles.

On to today's post....

There’s a strange phenomenon taking place at Parental Parody Palace.

My kids have impressive senses of smell.

No matter where they are in the house, as soon as I pull out a bottle of nail polish, they come running.

They can even differentiate between polish remover and actual polish.

Last week I was removing my polish, but wasn’t intending on re-applying a new colour.

The result?  Nothing.  Zip.  Nada.  All three kids were in the next room playing, and not one came skulking up to me, digits outstretched.

Yesterday, all three kids were in the same room, and I was back where I had been the previous week.  The very second I opened the bottle of polish, in they came.

And they’re stealth-like.  For three mini elephant-like, co-ordinationally challenged kids, they can daintily tip toe up to you until they are right smack in your face.  Or, rather, their fingers are wiggling right smack in your face.  And one foot, from Mstr2 because that’s his preferred polish receptacle.

OMG, I had no idea they actually had a scented line?  Must. Have. These.

These are the same kids who can’t smell dinner cooking from a metre away, and therefore have no clue that I’m calling them for dinner while they’re shovelling sand in their mouths.

The very same kids who can’t smell my perfume properly, because they liberally plaster it on themselves whenever my back is turned, claiming it wasn’t them, they didn’t do it, they can’t smell a thing.

The exact kids who can’t smell when one or both of them who are still wearing nappies, has done a number 2 of natural disaster proportions – and casually wanders into the living room to linger by each adult before moving on to the next one, just to see how many sets of eyes they can make water.

But open a bottle of nail polish anywhere within the same venue and they’re on you.

So naturally I’ve taken to painting my nails next door at #1Brother’s place, which shits him no end.  He keeps asking why I don’t just move in and make myself comfortable.  So now I’m eyeing off his second bedroom.  I could totally walk next door to tend to the children, cook the meals, do the washing.  And then return to my peaceful haven at night  or whenever they give me the shits and I need to escape  or whenever I need to fix my nail polish.

Now, when I’m desperate to get them out of the house because we’re late and they’re not co-operating, I grab the nail polish and open it as I walk out the door.  I shit you not.  It works.  It’s like the Pied Piper leading the rats around.

Only I’m the Polish Painter leading the Feral Threesome around by the scent of Revlon Craving Coral.

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