Syrup

      On February 25, I'm sitting in the brown reclining, nursing the baby while the kids eat. I look over and notice Camellia's not in her seat. "Camellia, what are you doing?" That's when it happened.
      "Camellia spilled!" Cassia reported.
      "Well, clean it up. Get the towels out and help her, please, Cassia."
      When Jewel Plant finished nursing I went in to help and the full scope of what had happened hit me. Camellia had not spilled water, as I had thought, but cooling syrup. Over the counter, down the dishwasher, splattered on the stove, and dripping in gooey puddles all over the floor.

      Sweeping before moping wasn't an option at this point, so we got down to business, which of course means taking off your clothes if you're two or four. (Maybe I shouldn't have let them take a "mopping bath" that one time to try and make mopping fun, but the damage is done, no going back.)
      Lesson number who-knows-what in The Children's Handbook states to make sticky messes by being independent as often as possible. I'm just grateful the syrup had cooled and hadn't caused burns on anyone and that the glass syrup container hadn't broken when she knocked it over on the tile counter tops. I really got luck, too, because not a single drop of syrup got on the lids I had put on the counter to reorganize after breakfast.