Silence at the Scott's

As Harvey and I sat talking to our guests we relished for a moment in the fact that our children were calmly and quietly playing upstairs. Only a few minutes later Savannah and Madison came running down excited to tell us of the game they had just made up, when it suddenly occurred to me that Carson was not amongst them. "Is Carson still upstairs?" I queried. "No, he was never upstairs." Was Savannah's response. "Was he not playing with you?" "No!" Harvey and I gave each other the look and we all began the proper procedure of what to do when Carson isn't seen, or heard. We sat in silence and listened. We listened for anything; any sound that would indicate his whereabouts. Silence. We could hear nothing. Savannah then looked at our guests and ever so calmly described the situation for them, "When Carson is quiet we know he is doing something he shouldn't be."

So we dispersed. Everyone looking throughout the house. As the minutes passed I found myself increasingly anxious. "Where is he? What is he doing?" Those were the questions pounding through my head. Finally the moment arrived, the moment when you find him. At times we are left in a state of shock at the scene before us. Other times we find ourselves laughing. But no matter what, we know there will be a scene. Silence, is scary. I open the door and glance around. I see nothing but a small children's pop up tent in the middle of the room. As I walk over to the tent my heart begins to race. Which scene will I find, laughter or shock? I draw back the entrance to the tent and gaze in. What I see is both comical and shocking. Carson is sparkling; shimmering from head to toe. When I call his name he turns to me and I take notice that his face is covered in pink. "Carson what are you doing?" Soon it becomes evident to me what he has been doing. I look just over his shoulder and see Madison's make-up case, and the remnants of it scattered all over the base of the tent. As I inched closer I see that even more so than lipstick caked on the floor and his face, I also see what was making him shimmer. Madison's body glitter. It was plastered everywhere! On the tent, in his hair, on his shirt, pants, and his hands. I am shocked because of the amount of glitter in such a small tube and how it can spread. I am laughing because of Carson's make up job and his ability to do it just right. He had eyeshadow on and lipstick, and they were perfectly placed on the eyes and mouth.

Hours after cleaning it all up, giving Carson a shower, and finding glitter scattered throughout the house; I feel the laughter wear off and the anger set in. Why didn't I acknowledge the silence? Why after 3 years of the troubled silences have I still not learned? Maybe this will be the last incident, maybe this will be the finality in his trouble making state of mind. But even as I write this I know the truth. I know this will never be the end, he is a boy. His need for trouble only develops into something more thought out, more deviant, more conniving, more creative. And so the story will continue...