I wanted to get some writing done today but I have been too busy busing tables having wiped up spill after spill courtesy of Hanna and Ellie.

We thought there would come a time when we would remove the sippy cup lids, ceremoniously toasting this important rite of passage, one step closer to becoming adults after the girls went a few consecutive days proving their strange arm movements and storytelling gestures during mealtime would not have any bearing on whether or not the rest of us were sporting raingear.

As it turns out, it has everything to do with placement. If the cup is centred directly above the plate on the placemat, it’s a blind spot like a finger coming directly toward the tip of your nose and it’s as though the cup disappears. Spill. If the cup is placed off to the right (the hand they both seem to favour), the more dramatic the re-telling of their bike accident, frog catching or cat chasing, the further the cup is thrown. Spill. If the cup is placed to the left of either one of them, the awkward motion with the wrong hand to the wrong side results in wobbling, eventual tippage, spill.

Today, we asked the girls if we could please just have one meal without anyone spilling their drinks. I have grown tired of eating my meals underwater and have questioned why I bother draining the liquid off of steamed vegetables if they’re only going to be swimming in someone’s milk moments later. I’ve resorted to planning sauces around what cocktail might best compliment my plate should it happen to spray across the room.

When we reintroduce lids to their cups, it’s a demotion of sorts, a juicy slap in the face when they eagerly approach the table at mealtime.

Tonight, it was a lidless meal. I thought I had learned from previous mistakes and made the changes necessary to ensure I would get fork to mouth with relative dryness.

I filled the cups only ¼ full.

I took every precaution to avoid usage of the words cheers, skol or chin chin.

I served water, rather than juice-water as I’ve grown to despise the sticky residue juice leaves on everything it lands on if it’s not instantly wiped clean with vinegar.

I was strategic in my placement of all fluids and when danger presented itself, through a series of shuffling and quick sliding movements, I kept everyone’s plates from floating away.

The critical error was high-chair baby’s distracting pounding on her tray for a handful of Cheerios.

I, (we) both let our guards down, if only for that one second, it was already too late.

First I felt a drop hit the back of my neck and I prayed for a leak in the ceiling.

Next it was dripping onto my lap, making a canoe of the parmesan bowl, oozing under all four placemats and seeping under the glass table top saturating the wood beneath.

The apologies came as fast as the water gushing onto the floor but by then, the damage had been done.

It’s the stage we are at in our lives. In addition to dry goods, napkins and canned foods, our pantry needs a shelf for; towels, buckets, sponges and dinner-hour plastic ponchos.

 I may get around to writing that book tomorrow. For now, I’ve got some drying to do.