Search bit another one of his friends this afternoon and served actual time in the official preschool penalty box.
It was one of those days.
We woke up in a good mood. Destroy announced “Ah!” right at 6:30 a.m. He was all smiles as he picked out his blue-hooded thermal to wear. We velcroed up his matching blue vans, and went back upstairs to get his brother. Twenty minutes later I opened the car door to unbuckle the boys and walk them to class.
I looked at Search; he grinned back up at me. “You’re not wearing any shoes,” I observed. What did I JUST say about getting back to basics. I guess it could have been worse – upon further inspection I can confirm that we were all, in fact, wearing pants.
At 5 p.m. I darted across town to swoop up muppets. And once again, I was greeted with an INCIDENT REPORT. Seriously? Again?!
Incident: Search bit a friend on the playground this afternoon.
Action Taken: Time out and told “We don’t bite our friends.”
Search was smirking with a look that can only be described as Mommy Redux. Search – you are your mother’s son. Karma – you are a bitch. Kisses, Tricia.
“It’s a good thing they come cute,” his teacher (not yesterday’s cannibalistic target) noted.
We arrived home to the tune of a MAJOR MUPPET MELTDOWN. I think Destroy had a tummy ache. Squirming, squealing and sobbing, my little destroyer absolutely refused to sit in his highchair – he arched his back and wailed. I knew something was obviously wrong. Destroy doesn’t turn down food lightly.
I know! How about a nice warm bath? That will make you feel better. I am a brilliant mommy. (Well, aside from the whole juvenile delinquent biting issue that seems to be besting me.)
We finished sudsing up and were ready to partake in a few minutes of splashing (the muppets do enjoy relieving the tub of all its liquid contents). Then Destroy smiled and shouted his happy yell.
There was a giant poop in the tub. GIANT.
I guess his tummy didn’t hurt anymore…
I scooped two giggling toddlers out of the bathtub in a right quick hurry. Destroy managed to wander out of the living room while I gathered his brother. I called him back, coaxing him toward me with open arms. I couldn’t help but join in the laughter as the naked 26-pound toddler nonchalantly waddled back. I held out two fuzzy footie jammies, asking which one he wanted to wear to bed.
Destroy looked up at me. He took a moment to examine the blue rocketship or tan monkey. Then he stood tall – holding his head every inch of his two and a half feet – and peed on the monkey and me.
My plan for tonight was to workout, write and collapse into a delightfully dream-filled slumber by 9 p.m. Instead, I spent it scrubbing poop out of a bathtub.
That’s right. Motherhood is damn sexy.