- Let your kid eat in front of the TV.
- Forget to put Vaseline on the doorknob so kid can open door.
- Make sure your kid has a puppy.
- Make sure your kid’s stomach and puppy’s digestive tract are both full.
- Go to bathroom for a little quality time.
We’ve all seen articles by organized people enumerating methods to keep out lives well-organized, tidy, and rational. Well, this is not one of those. I’d be far more successful at writing “How to Mess Up Everything You Touch.” My kids were always right ahead of me, making sure nothing was missed. When John was three, I settled him on the floor on a big towel in front of the television with his breakfast on a tray to watch “Sesame Street. Never a slacker in the appetite department, he always wanted milk, eggs, bacon, toast, and grits. I always watched with him, ready to pick up his tray and cuddle him in his blanket after he finished eating. This worked well for months.
One sad day, I had to excuse myself for just a minute. Naturally, I told John to sit tight till I got back. Everything would have been fine, except the Buster the Dog wanted in. No three-year-old could have resisted. Buster surely thought he’d gone to Doggy Heaven when he found breakfast waiting for him, set right at puppy level. Making quick work of my tidy layout, he spilled the milk, gobbled the eggs and bacon, and smeared the grits as far as they’d go. In fact, it was so altogether satisfying and filling, he pooped his gratitude out on the carpet. Sickened by the smell, John vomited on top of the whole mess. By the time I’d finished my business and got back to the living room, John was bawling at the top of his lungs and Buster was happily burrowed into the sofa, licking the jam off the toast.
I scraped up the worst of the mess and fixed John another breakfast, not because I thought he deserved it, but because it was the only way to assuage his loud and continuous grief. Buster went back to the yard and I spent the next couple of hours catching up on some unplanned cleaning.
As a footnote, I noticed fruit flies buzzing around John’s toy box later that morning. Digging deep, I found a rotten banana right at the bottom, but that’s a story for another day. Just so you know, later that week I pulled a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of the VCR.
This reminded me of my own banana story. When my youngest was about the same age as John, he complained to one morning there were ants in his bed.
As his bedding was one of those easy to make doonas, it had been a few days since I had fully lifted it off the bed.
Really, it was no wonder his bed had ants visiting. There was a banana hidden at the foot of the bed for an emergency snack. It was black, mush and just right for ant food.
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That is awful. One time John had an old banana in his toy box. Same thing.
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Thank you for this hilarious Monday morning muse. Parenting is never for wimps, and it appears you survived! So, you must have some superpowers in there. 😉 Congrats! … and thanks for the follow! 😊
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Parenting is a job none of us are prepared for.
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Solid Truth!😂
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It’s good to be reading your blog again. O’m glad you enjoy telling on yourself. 🙂
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It is fun reliving those times.
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My eyesight is no better, I see
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It’s always amazing to me that you survive all the adventures you write about.
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I believe every body has interesting things happen every day. I think I just enjoy telling on myself. I don’t mind being the butt of a joke, mine or someone else’s, as long as it’s good-natured.
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We may have interesting things happen, but we can’t tell them like you do. I had messy events with children, but nothing was as bad as the dog eating your son’s breakfast. Nothing!!!
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That was terrible. Sometime I’ll have to tell about when John was too good to wipe his own butt while I was taking a nap. Maybe, tomorrow.
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It sounds hilarious.
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Now it is. I wasn’t amused that day.
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You are the VERY best story teller! And survivor of said stories!
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I admire your writing immensely. You are succinct and spot on.
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Aw, thanks Linda. You could teach a class on story telling (writing).
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I would love that.
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