Pass the Mustard

My girls are always begging me to play in the front yard. Usually my answer is "no" because I don't want them out there unless I can be there to keep an eye on them. This morning I thought they'd be really excited to go outside to ride bikes and scooters while I worked on reclaiming my yard from over a year of unchecked weed growth.

Much to my surprise, they kept sneaking into the house to watch cartoons. It was a beautiful day! How could any two year-old choose "Dora the Explorer" over racing down the sidewalk on a princess trike? After an hour and a half of weeding (minus the 20 minutes spent cleaning up Camden's poopy panties) and a half a dozen retrievals, I decided to let them watch while I finished up. I had less than two feet of garden space left to clear, and then I'd take a lunch break.

That foot and a half of flower bed took me a little longer than I anticipated since it was so jam packed with weeds. When I finished I walked through the garage door to find the fridge open, and the pantry raided. Empty Capri Sun's littered the kitchen floor (they drank every one I had). I closed the fridge and walked over to the open back door. I looked outside to see the twins on the swings, covered in mustard! Camden was naked from the waist down. Cadence grinned at me, "We poured mustard on the yellow couch," she taunted. Ugh! Not again! It was then that I noticed the yellow streaks across the lawn, grazing the door frame, and dotting the floors. What is this obsession with mustard?