Drat that Emily Yeung.
You know that spunky, sparky little girl on Treehouse TV-- the one in the orange shirt, always trying out funky new activities, and as precocious as the day is long?
Well, I'm here to tell you that she's living a double life, people. And the other half of that cute-as-a-button little twerp is wreaking havoc right here in my house.
It's hard to believe, actually. I mean, come ON. Filming that series must take up the majority of her time. There would hardly be any spare moments for academic study (not that she needs any-- she clearly knows it all), or even for sitting in front of the mirror at night, jamming her fingers into those mega-dimples of hers, just to make sure she never misplaces them...
But, there MUST be more than 24 hours in a day for Emily Yeung, there just has to be-- otherwise she would NEVER have the time to get up to the kinds of mischief I am assured she does, right here under my own roof, on a daily basis. Sometimes SEVERAL times a day, in fact.
It all started when Child Number Three began to speak in full sentences. No sooner had she learned to RESPOND to questions, the questions that other family members ASKED most frequently seemed to begin with the same word: WHO.
"WHO took my toothbrush and dropped it in the toilet??!!"
"WHO drew on my barbie doll's face with red marker??!!"
"WHO emptied the sugar bowl onto the kitchen floor??!!"
"WHO buggered up my computer????!!!!!!"
Well, the answer to ALL of these questions and MORE was simple, according to my youngest daughter:
"Maybe E'mmy Yeung did it!!"
Child Number Three began making this prophetic statement initially with a look of innocent, wide-eyed wonder on her face... as though she could hardly believe that her televisual heroine could transcend the Treehouse Channel and take time out of her busy life to terrorize our home. But, as time went by, and Emily was named as the main suspect for more and more criminal activity around here, Wee Three's accompanying facial expression changed to one of deep seriousness. Her verdict was made with concentrated certainty. Most recently, she has begun slowly shaking her curly little head as she says the words, as though she is imagining the terrible fate that Emily would have to endure, should she ever be caught in the act by me, Mother Of All Mothers and Domestic Goddess.
Emily Yeung was going to catch it in the neck if she was ever caught pilfering chocolate chips, and then wiping the residual hand-stickiness on the white wainscoting in the hallway. She was going to be sent packing if she was discovered fingerpainting with leftover hotdog mustard on the kitchen floor. The police might have to be called if she were found to be stirring the cat's litterbox with a wooden spoon. And as for adventures with mud and the garden hose in the newly manicured garden?? Forget about it. It would be GAME OVER for Emily.
I wish I could catch her in the act. Just once. Then there would be considerably fewer "WHO??" questions around here, and more WHATs, instead... As in, "WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS KID??!!"
I've got a pretty good idea WHAT, too. For starters, I'd glue the little culprit's behind to a time-out chair for so long, she'd miss at least a month or two of taping that television show of hers.
Come on, nobody'd really miss her.
Especially since I've got another little girl, recently turned three, who would just LOVE to be her understudy for awhile....