B starts preschool tomorrow, and today was preschool orientation day. I naively thought that I would write a fairly benign blog post about sending my baby off for his first day of school and the emotional upheaval that comes along with it (for Mommy, not necessarily B). That was until I was jolted from a nice peaceful slumber this morning by my husband stating that he needed my "help."
In a foggy grog, I asked him why. I vaguely recall hearing something about the boys being covered in poop and the carpet needing cleaned. Wait ... wha??? If that doesn't send you bolting out of bed, not much else will.
William will frequently just haul the boys into the shower with him when he is by himself with them or we just want to speed up the process. Since we had preschool orientation this morning and I was still in bed getting a few extra minutes of zzzzzs, this morning was one of those times. They have their little routine - they get undressed out in the living room where their changing table and diaper pail reside, and then two little naked butts excitedly wiggle their way down the hall to the bathroom in anticipation of that glorious bathtub full of splishy-splashy warm water. This morning was no different except that Daddy headed to the bathroom ahead of them to do some bathtub maintenance, figuring he'd be done by the time the naked butts arrived. Except the naked butts took longer than usual ... and when B showed up in the bathroom, he brought with him a hand full of poop (literally), which he had also smeared over most of his body. The scene of the crime (the living room) revealed P (the culprit), also covered in poop, along with it being smeared all over the carpet and their plastic toy bin. Yep, that really just happened.
So as Daddy tossed two poop-covered little boys into the bathtub, I dragged the Bissell HotShot out of the closet and proceeded to try to find all of the yellow baby poop smears on our caramel brown colored carpet - just what I wanted to do before I've even had my first cup of coffee or put in my contacts. At one point, Daddy poked his head out of the bathroom and asked if we had anything we could "disinfect" the carpet with, and then a while later proclaimed that now he knows why Maasai men stay away from childcare duties because that may have just been the grossest thing he's ever had to do. Sadly I have a feeling that won't be the last time I hear him say that before these two boys are 18 years old and move out of the house. We do have a long way to go, and boys will be boys ...
Anyway, I now have a section of nicely cleaned carpet, and I managed to suck down that cup of coffee before we had to bolt out the door to preschool orientation. And I cried on the way home when I started talking about going to Target tonight to buy him a backpack so we can send diapers and a change of clothes along just in case. The joys of being a mom.
This is one of those "it's not funny now, but will be later" stories. You and William are awesome parents and so blessed. Thanks for sharing.
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