Battle of the Bulb

As my fingers press against the keys, I am embroiled in a battle of epic proportions.

Situated on the Domestic Front, I find de-bulbed victims every day, every night.

Scattered. Dismantled. Detached from their purpose.

There they lay, motionless, moments before flickers of warmth that shine like a cozy invitation on a cold dreary night. Then just like that, they are screwed. Correction:  unscrewed.

For three consecutive years now, I have attempted to peacefully, unceremoniously (during nap time) place these lightweight window accessories behind the lace veils on the window sills. Babies and window candles don't mesh, I know. While the beginning of each holiday season found me still giving it a try, I would readily acquiescence after too many a handling by chubby baby hands.

This year, as the holidays began their descent upon the calendar and Michaels Craft Stores boasted electric window candle bulbs for mere pennies, blind hope began to once again spring anew. Not only did I prep my box of dormant electric candle sticks with new bulbs, but I added reinforcement by way of super-strength putty to place on their shallow bases, firmly adhering them to the window sill.They would not be easily toppled by 'enemy forces' whose elbow could merely graze a curtain and send the shining soldier to the ground.

As I observed during the first evening of light at the windows, our newly two-year-old twin boys barely took notice and when they did, it only took a few stern "No's!" to keep them at bay. This appeared to be a turning point. Could it be the year of the cozy cottage windows? Currier and Ives here we come. Thomas Kincaid, await your invitation in the mail for an inspiration visit! Over the river and through the woods...and a home with warmth spilling out the eaves and windows awaits you here!

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
The invitation now lays in limbo on the counter.

It would be simply shameful of me as the mother to document the child involved by name for history (and siblings) to someday point fingers at. Thus, the child shall remain nameless.

Suffice it to say, after multiple gentle informative discussions of the importance of not removing and/or playing with glass bulbs, and subsequent not-so-calmly-put reminders that one is not to remove and then HIDE tens of bulbs under one's bed sheets (which are prone to be jumped on by siblings), the Battle of the Bulb has escalated to staggering heights.

Tonight, all the bulbs from the unnamed child's room had been removed. 

Incredulously, the head of the Electric Candle Army interrogated the perpetrator. 

Admittedly, the Interrogator had an incredibly long day in which patience levels were in the negatives. This is when the Captain of the Household stepped in and sarcastically informed the Haggard Interrogator that while her tactics were "extremely effective" {ahem}, he would take over.  As it turns out, the Saccharine Sweet Lets-Be-A-Team! approach fell flat with a thud. She clearly knew where they were at, and nearly led Captain Kindness to them, but for whatever reason had a last minute change of heart. Thus, tonight, no blankie for the one who held the bulbs prisoner.

***

As an act of mercy, I came up later and gently reminded her that she may gladly have her blankie back if she decides to fess up and show me the cache of bulbs.

After a long, unblinking stare right into my soul, she stated:

"I can't".

"Well,", I asked, "Why ever not?"

"Because. 

They in the Nort Pole"

Alrighty, then. 

Let the Battle of the Bulb march on. 

 

I am not ready to surrender to a steel-willed three year old who knows exactly what she's doing. If you should know us personally, and where we live, the night you drive past our home and there is a light glowing forth from every window in our abode, you will know who stands victorious. Until 2019 then, take note of the candle in the far window on the upper side of the house. She always forgets about that one.