We have lived with Nora for a little over two years. We should know better than to leave her alone, especially when she is mad. Last Thursday we sent her to bed angry. Not because she wanted ice cream and couldn't have any. Not because Justin "the Bieb" Bieber was on TV and we wouldn't let her watch. But because we made her come inside and take a bath before bed. If you have any concept of just how grubby two-and-a-half-year-olds get after a day of playing outside, you understand why bathing is a necessary evil. Plus I had to work early Friday AM, so I was saving Brian an early wakeup. Baths always help the little people sleep a little sounder, a little longer.
Friday morning came, I shot off to work. At 648 I got a text message that Nora, in all her fury, had treated herself to a "spa day" using Desitin and diaper wipes. Apparently her hair would not need conditioner for the next 4 weeks, according to Brian. I asked for pictures and got a grainy image of her bed smeared in white, surrounded by diaper wipes. Not exactly what I was looking for, but whatever.
Friday afternoon, I picked Nora up from daycare. Yes, she was mighty greasy. But nothing a few Dawn baths couldn't handle. I headed for home, wit the grand idea of pitching her in the kitchen sink and scrubbing her good. Except when I got home, the ENTIRE dining room floor was covered in Fruity Pebbles. WHAT THE FUCK?!?
I phoned Brian, worried that some sort of cereal bandit had broken into the house. Not so, he affirmed. While he had snuck upstairs (not sneaky at 235#, my friend) to take that weak picture, Nora had decided to spoon feed Huckleberry (the dog) her breakfast. Brian had been in too much of a hurry to clean up the cereal, the Desitin, the diaper wipes, AND the 2-year-old.
Living with my husband is sometimes like living with FOUR kids 3 and under, except he makes bigger messes. I love him dearly, but he was REALLY DAMN LUCKY he wasn't home for that one.
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