Now, you know we have our share of calamities, but this is two-year-old sh**.
It started when, after a nice morning at preschool, and a nice hour at Little Gym, we came home, I gave them their snack, and turned on the TV. I told them I needed to go take a shower upstairs because
Now wait, twynmawrmom. You just said you left them alone. In a room. On a different floor. For an entire shower?
Yes. I gave my lungs a chance to breathe (they didn't take it) during Little Gym by trying to run outside and thusly, needed a shower in the middle of the day. Particularly because I was headed to a sewing class that night.
Yay! Sewing class! I'm so progress-ful!
And yes, I left them alone. I do it all the time. Especially in that post-activity lull that is supposed to be naptime. Watch some TV while mommy gets a breather. Nothing new.
Not many calamities have resulted from this practice.
So where was I. It started when I came back down from the shower and little boy had scribbled a design. On the COUCH cushion. In RED. MARKER....AHHHHHHH!!!!!
And on the kitchen table.
And on the non-removable ARM OF THE COUCH.
And on his dinosaur 'landing'.
AND on the floor.
And on his legs. And arms.
Let's just say, I was seeing RED.
I don't even remember exactly how I stumbled across it. They were sitting around the coffee table on the floor and I noticed the little guy had a red marker in his hand. And he was right next to a throw pillow that was conspicuously on the seat of the couch, not rested up at the head. Oh I guess I do remember...
Underneath that throw pillow was this...
What the hell is that supposed to be anyhow? A whale? A boat with a penis inside it?
And, saying nothing, I grabbed his hand and started to walk him down the hallway to the "time out" chairs. And he, knowingly, started to wail.
As I began to clean up, it hit me: he is 4. He can get on his hands and knees and scrub this sh**. He can't spray the cleaner, he can't use cotton balls of nail polish remover on the table, but he can do the laundry. He can put away the jackets that are still on the floor from when we got home from class. He can use the vacuum attachment to clean underneath the couch cushions [since we are tearing apart the couch anyways]. He can wipe the floor after I spray it. He can take clean laundry upstairs, and put dirty laundry in hampers. He can separate all the markers from the crayons in the 'art box' and throw them in the F**KEN GARBAGE.
So that's where we started.
I think he actually loved the attention, the work, and the direction. [fail]
Because this morning I found him, from what I can tell, taking play cups from the bathtub, dipping them in the toilet, and then tossing toilet water in the bathtub. And, in the process, dripping toilet water all over the bathroom floor. His sister was not uninvolved. So again, I made them clean it up. I sprayed cleaner while they used paper towels to mop it all up. And then I walked them downstairs to my husband's office, which is underneath their bathroom, where some of the ceiling is chipping off. Although this patch has existed since we moved into this house as a result of the neglect while it was foreclosed upon by the previous homeowners, I led them to believe that they were causing this damage slowly over time and that someday they may very well cause the toilet and/or bathtub to fall through the floor into their Daddy's office.
Not less than five new rules, two new speeches and one hour later, little guy is tearing off all the toilet paper on the roll and stuffing it into a canister next to the toilet in mommy's bathroom.
WHAT THE HELL CONSEQUENCES AM I SUPPOSED TO DO??
WHAT'S GOING TO GET THROUGH TO YOU PEOPLE?!?!
And why is this always toilet related? Jeez...The amount they talk about their poops, I could write a book...
And then there's how my husband reacted.
Let's just say, the scene could have been excerpted from The Sound of Music. Pretty sure he's already ordered me a whistle on amazon.
"The hills are alive..."
The twyns and myself, however....well...we'll see....
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