A cautionary tale

While I was spending a bit of one-on-one playing with Jude, thinking that Paul was peacefully enjoying some down time in his room, I started smelling a ghastly-sweet floral scent lingering in the air. I opened the door to see Paul skipping blithely down the hallway toward me, also smelling disturbingly floral. "What are you doing down here, Paul?" I asked.

"Um, nussing."

Hmm. When Paul has been doing "nussing" I know that mischief is nigh. So I walked upstairs to investigate the source of the smell. Lysol. An appalling amount of Lysol unleashed in his bedroom, with the can neatly replaced behind the diaper pail under his changing table. I opened every available window and set some fans blowing.

Thinking the job was finished, I went back downstairs and noticed the coffee table glistening strangely in the living room. As I came closer I could see that it was completely covered in something wet. Yes, more Lysol. Paul had done his work in the living room as well before returning the Lysol can to its rightful place. And this time, cleanup was not so easy; no amount of paper towels and furniture polish—or even mayonnaise (I found this homeopathic solution online.)—could remove the dull, cloudy surface that resulted on the formerly shiny finish. So I'll have to see if I can find some some more aggressive means of restoring the luster of the coffee table.

Events like these make me very thankful that our home is full of "pre-owned" (used) furniture. Even if structural damage were to result, it would be no great loss. And hey, at least this mishap left the living room smelling like spring once the air had cleared a bit.

I also (re-)learned two valuable lessons as a result:
1. Do not leave cleaning supplies anywhere that a two-year-old boy might be able to find them. (Duh)
2. Lysol is not a good choice for cleaning a hardwood surface.

So now you know. Learn from my mistake.