Let me start off my saying that this is completely based on a true story. No foolies.
-The following events took place between 17:00-18:00-
I live in a small apartment with my son. I can hear him no matter where is really, because he's big and loud. It's when I can't hear him at all that I get super suspicious. Usually I notice, and I seek him out and avoid disaster. Today, though...today he eluded my intuition, with horrific results.
I'd left the living room for what seemed like mere seconds to wash some ink off my hands. When I came back into the room, I saw my son on top of the kitchen table. He's figured out the climbing thing pretty effectively at this point, but this time he managed to knock over my can of coke.
When I walked in, he was sitting in the middle of a pool of cola, splashing around and clapping while glucose and carbonated water was soaking through my papers, my books, his clothes and everything on the table. It dripped into the vents, onto the windows, chairs and the floor.
I stood stunned for a few seconds, and then could only do what would be described as a “casual stroll” and I picked his sticky baby body up off the table, peeled off his shirt (He just had to do this in his Maroney (39) jersey!) and then giving him a quick wipe off before returning him to his movie. He gave me a look that just screamed “Wahhh, Llama face!”
I rushed to grab a dishcloth, and began wiping down the table. I was thanking some sort of higher power for the fact that I’d decided to move the GameCube off the table within the last hour, before it was hit by a hurricane of sugar. It was everywhere and I was probably going to need more clothes. When I got to the floor to clean underneath, I felt a small pressure on my back. A hand. A baby hand.
Before I could react, Charlie was past me in a blur. He laughed out loud, sat right in the puddle and then laughed. His eyes met mine, daring me to make a move. ‘Evil bugger,’ I thought.
Now, the thought had crossed my mind to probably take advantage of the his diaper soaking abilities and just use him to clean up the rest of the mess, but I was having some sort of LSD/Simpsons flashback. I think Bart did that once, I don’t think it ended well. I can’t remember the details.
I reached for him and excavated him from the spot once more, and shooed him away. I continued cleaning up the damage from the floor and the walls. I wiped the vent down and moved it away, cleaning underneath. I got chair cleaned from top to bottom. I piled together all of the sticky books and papers and set them in the kitchen to be pried apart later. I had just gotten to the floor again to wipe up any remaining residue, when I heard a familiar grunt behind me.
I whirled around once more to face the sticky Baby. He was pacing back and forth near the futon, watching me. Now that I wasn’t worried about the mess, I could face this challenge head on. His face scrunched at me and he grunted again. I kneeled expectantly and then did the only thing I dare…
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He lunged.
With a single step I pushed my feet to the floor, stood up and caught him head on. I lifted him up high into the air, spun him around and then tightened my grip. I hugged him close to me and playfully tossed him to the futon. He laughed and rolled over. He lay there for one minute, snorted and focused his attention back on the Emperor’s New Groove.
With him distracted once more, I breathed a sigh of relief and I shook my hands together.
I still had to mop.
-The following events took place between 17:00-18:00-
I live in a small apartment with my son. I can hear him no matter where is really, because he's big and loud. It's when I can't hear him at all that I get super suspicious. Usually I notice, and I seek him out and avoid disaster. Today, though...today he eluded my intuition, with horrific results.
I'd left the living room for what seemed like mere seconds to wash some ink off my hands. When I came back into the room, I saw my son on top of the kitchen table. He's figured out the climbing thing pretty effectively at this point, but this time he managed to knock over my can of coke.
When I walked in, he was sitting in the middle of a pool of cola, splashing around and clapping while glucose and carbonated water was soaking through my papers, my books, his clothes and everything on the table. It dripped into the vents, onto the windows, chairs and the floor.
I stood stunned for a few seconds, and then could only do what would be described as a “casual stroll” and I picked his sticky baby body up off the table, peeled off his shirt (He just had to do this in his Maroney (39) jersey!) and then giving him a quick wipe off before returning him to his movie. He gave me a look that just screamed “Wahhh, Llama face!”
I rushed to grab a dishcloth, and began wiping down the table. I was thanking some sort of higher power for the fact that I’d decided to move the GameCube off the table within the last hour, before it was hit by a hurricane of sugar. It was everywhere and I was probably going to need more clothes. When I got to the floor to clean underneath, I felt a small pressure on my back. A hand. A baby hand.
Before I could react, Charlie was past me in a blur. He laughed out loud, sat right in the puddle and then laughed. His eyes met mine, daring me to make a move. ‘Evil bugger,’ I thought.
Now, the thought had crossed my mind to probably take advantage of the his diaper soaking abilities and just use him to clean up the rest of the mess, but I was having some sort of LSD/Simpsons flashback. I think Bart did that once, I don’t think it ended well. I can’t remember the details.
I reached for him and excavated him from the spot once more, and shooed him away. I continued cleaning up the damage from the floor and the walls. I wiped the vent down and moved it away, cleaning underneath. I got chair cleaned from top to bottom. I piled together all of the sticky books and papers and set them in the kitchen to be pried apart later. I had just gotten to the floor again to wipe up any remaining residue, when I heard a familiar grunt behind me.
I whirled around once more to face the sticky Baby. He was pacing back and forth near the futon, watching me. Now that I wasn’t worried about the mess, I could face this challenge head on. His face scrunched at me and he grunted again. I kneeled expectantly and then did the only thing I dare…
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He lunged.
With a single step I pushed my feet to the floor, stood up and caught him head on. I lifted him up high into the air, spun him around and then tightened my grip. I hugged him close to me and playfully tossed him to the futon. He laughed and rolled over. He lay there for one minute, snorted and focused his attention back on the Emperor’s New Groove.
With him distracted once more, I breathed a sigh of relief and I shook my hands together.
I still had to mop.
