Preschool Mischief = Senior Moments

This happened earlier in the spring, but I think it warrants a blog entry because the boys will surely look back on day and have a good laugh.

It was my parent's week to keep the kids on Monday - Wednesday while we were at work. As usual, Daddy got to the house around 7:45 AM to pick them up to go to his house. We went through the breakfast routine and headed out the door to load up and start the day. G was going with Pa Pa and I was taking Davis to school. While Daddy was loading Garrett into his car on the driver's side, I had to put my things down in the van and buckle up Davis. Daddy was backing up as I turned around. Imagine my surprise when I see 2 hanging baskets with bright fuchsia flowers dangling from the passenger side doors of his car. I got his attention by banging on the window. It took all I could manage not to laugh hysterically as I asked him why he was driving around with hanging baskets on his door handles. "What are you talking about? What baskets?". He had no clue they were there. The kids had been at his house the day before and Davis hung them on the handles and Daddy never noticed it when he went out that morning. Even funnier, he'd been driving around town and blowing down I-95 earlier that morning on his daily trek to Bojangles to meet with the ROMEO Club (Retired Old Men Eating Out). You could see the look of worry on his face that his buddies at Bo's had seen him pulling out of the parking lot with those baskets blowing in the breeze. I tell you...it was so funny, I nearly peed in my pants.

Just so you can fully appreciate what I'm talking about, the boys very considerately offered this photographic re-enactment of the hanging basket crime in question. Picture this passing you by at 75 MPH on the interstate:

Preschooler mischief mixed with a Senior Citizen's decreased lack of awareness can lead to some pretty funny stuff. Bless their little hearts!

Praise the Lord and Pass the Underwear!

The unbelievable happened this week. Garrett, Little Criminal #2, decided he was finally interested in potty training. Up until this week, he has had NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER. On Tuesday, all that changed. At the urging of his Nana, he finally agreed to wear some big boy underpants and do the potty thing. By Thursday of this week, he decided that underwear was too confining and that the call of nature literally means peeing outdoors. He's been going commando ever since and he only wants to pee outside. So for two days, he's been running around with nothing but a shirt on and heading to the grass to pee. But the good news is that he's only had to have a pull up at bedtime. While I wish he wasn't killing my grass, I'm more than willing to look the other way if it means we're headed out of the diaper era. B and I have decided that once we're done with them for good, we're going to throw the diaper genie on Pa Pa's dump pile and burn it in celebration. I'm more than ready to get that stinky thing out of my house once and for all. Diaper Genie my butt....there's nothing magic about it!

It Happens

The picture above is Garrett. My beloved second child. What started as a typical afternoon, got strange....and very stinky. As anyone who knows him will tell you, Garrett is a pig. Not in the swine sense, but in the LOOKs like he likes to roll in the mud sense. The child came out dirty and he's stayed that way since birth. He has a typical 5 minutes each day when he's clean. That's when he first gets out of the tub and the first 2 minutes after his feet hit the floor in the morning. So I'm never surprised when he comes in the house caked in lawn mower grease, red mulch dye or with a loaded diaper that he likes to call stinkum pants.

That's exactly what I expected when he came in this afternoon and said "Mommy, I's got stinkum on my hands". Sure enough, each little hand and finger was covered in doo and it had a smell that could make paint peel. Jumping up fast as lightning, I raced him to the tub, stripped him and in the process, got the stinky all over my own self. The smell was worse than any butt I'd smelled in the nursing home, for Pete's sake. I got the diaper ripped open and SURPRISE - NO POOP. Confused, I asked the little criminal where the poop came from. That's when I heard what I didn't want to hear....

"Mommy, it's Boomer's poop." Even with the dang dog 20 minutes away in another town, Cujo Junior is STILL giving me grief. Lord, give me strength.