Kid 5 had therapy today at home, and the therapists were expected around 1:45.
With about 2 minutes to spare, kid 4 took off running through the house to the bathroom door and yelled “Hurry, Mom!” So I did, but I was too late.
As my friend will tell you, never trust a fart. Kid 4 made that mistake.
So instead of taking her pants off carefully and slowly, she got it down to one ankle and started kicking. Poop went everywhere. All the way across the bathroom, on the shower, on the toilet, on her, on my pants, even on my glasses. It looked like I had a pet monkey.
Just as I was drying off my glasses, the doorbell rang. I had to take another five minutes to clean up the bathroom, and kid 5’s therapy had to be done with me in my pajama pants and kid 4 in panties and a shirt, because it was all I had handy.
I survived, and the bathroom got cleaned whether I wanted it to get cleaned or not. It would’ve been nice not to have to wipe poop off my glasses, but it could always be worse. I could wear contacts.
I woke up at 5:00 because kid 5 was in my bed, yelling. I don’t know how he got there, though I’d assume it was hubby. He wasn’t yelling in anger. He was just awake and ready to go. I missed a dose of medicine earlier in the day and I think it really affected his sleep last night.
Anyway, I looked over and he was on all 4’s, leaning over hubby’s face. He was yelling in his face, telling him that he loves soccer balls and his grandpa gave him a soccer ball and he wants a purple one. The thing that really kills me is the way he’ll pause between sentences and say “Umm…” It lost its funny aspect when he started headbutting me in the spine but at first, I could only giggle. We eventually calmed him and gave him some water and he slept another 3 hours, at which point he woke up farting.
Then at about 8:30, kid 4 woke up. I didn’t hear her call for me or anything of that nature. It was only “I MADE A REALLY BIG FART!”
Kids crack me up.