Tuesday night was another frantic muppet caper. I closed down my cubicle at work and ran for the hills â€“ also known as driving across the Silicon Valley at high speeds to pick up the boys on time.
Search and Destroy greeted me at the pickup gate with giant grins and outstretched arms. Who could resist such heart-meltyness. I hugged them both. In my white blouse. After their afternoon snacktime. Which happened to be blackberries.
This may explain Sarah Michelle Gellarâ€™s Golden Globes outfitâ€¦
We made it home for dinner milliseconds before meltdown. And after inhaling approximately a pound of turkey, full box of macaroni and cheese and several avocados, the muppets were momentarily full. (I may be exaggerating this point slightly, but the salient message here is the kids can Pack. It. Down.)
Now covered in avocado to complete my avante-garde haute couture blackberry blouse, I removed Destroy from high chair. Time for a bath!
Destroy scampered around the corner toward the bathroom while I freed Search and pried the toddler spoon from his chubby hands. â€œNOOO! MORE. MORE. MORE,â€ he screeched.
I heard the door shut. Destroyâ€™s got a â€œthing.â€ Doors cannot be open. He shuts them â€“ bedrooms, closets, toy garages, and apparently bathrooms. I cajoled Search to hurry up.
Suddenly I heard pipes squeaking. Well that canâ€™t be good.
This was followed by the sound of running water. Oh shit.
I scooped up Search and opened the bathroom door, expecting to push Destroy out of the way.
But no. Standing center in the tub was a fully clothed Destroy. Grinning from ear to ear.
â€œDestroy!â€ I reprimanded.
Using the oft-instructed command to sit his little butt right back down, the mischievous water sprite looked up at me and announced, â€œBottom!â€ He then plopped himself down in the tub â€“ soaking his cuffed hipster jeans through and through.
Iâ€™m not sure who was wetter by the time the actual bath got underway. The bathroom looked flooded. But I can certainly tell you who was laughing the hardest.
Not using quite the same linguistic skills to indicate the conclusion of his evening cleanse, he simply stood up and peed.
I promptly decreed that this would be a good time to get them both out of the bathtub. ASAP. Search had begun trying to chug more water out of a tub toy. And bathwater wouldnâ€™t be my first choice.
At least the kids were clean. Kind of. For a few minutes. Considering that the evening ended with me shrieking across the living room, â€œPOOP IS NOT FINGERPAINT!â€