Dale and the Shoe Polish
(E. D. Coons--AKA Grandpa)
The day before Dale's first birthday, Michael decided to arrive. We had made arrangements with our neighbors, the Hills, so in the middle of the night we dropped Dale at their trailer and went off to the hospital. It was a sleepless night waiting for Mikes arrival so everyone was ready for a nap -- except Dale. When I got home, Sister Hill had to go to work, so I tried putting him in bed with me--he was wide awake and just wanted to play 'peek-a-boo' and 'Poke-your-finger-in-Dad's-face' and other games.
Finally I closed the bathroom door, picked up things except for toys, and stuck Dale down on the floor where he would be safe and zonked. After all, how much trouble can a one-year old get into? A couple of hours later, I found out.
I still don't know how he got the kitchen cabinet door open or the shoe polish bottle open, but he had white shoe polish all over him, his red play-suit and the kitchen floor. He didn't seem to have drunk any, so I took a blackmail picture and cleaned him up. Next day he made almost as big a mess when I put him in front of his first birthday cake with gooey white frosting.
From Sharon: The shoe polish thing is genetic, I think. One time when you & Iris were over with a very small Michelle (my first year at BYU) she crept up the stairs and crawled into my room to play. She rummaged in my closet and came out with...white shoe polish. Your story leapt to my mind, and I promptly confiscated it!