Aside from the completely awkward run in with the counseling center, this week shaped up to be an adventure in its own right. It probably began the morning my 2 year old woke me by tap-tap-tapping on my nose.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Feeling the soft chubby index finger over and over, I dragged open an eye.
“Yull-yull?” His face was inches from mine, and the word emerged like a low growl; in toddler code, yull-yull is cereal.
I moaned, and turned away.
But then the little stinker took a thumb to my eyelid and lifted it so I could see his face, which was just a breath away, grinning widely. “Hi!” he cried with glee as my iris came into view. And I couldn’t help it; I erupted into giggles.
But oh man, that was before my daughter handed him a white dishcloth to clean up his deep purple smoothie spill, which happened later that morning. Rather than wiping up, he chose to wash the dishcloth in the the smoothie instead.
About an hour after that, the same child loaded his diaper, removed his diaper, smeared his diaper, and then grabbed a second white towel from the drawer to helpfully clean it all up.
And then not more than two hours after that, his older brother was helping in the kitchen and managed to pour an entire can of tomato sauce onto a third white dish towel.
Now you might think the question needs to be asked: why does a woman with six kids under 10 even own white dish towels? I don’t know what to say. Every time I go to IKEA, there they are, 79 cents a piece, and I grab two or three. There is ever a hope (or a delusion) that the towels will stay unstained. (They never do.) I tossed all three of those towels into the trash, by the way.
Well none of this is really here nor there, other than to say that here is an example of how my week went down. We had sleep walking kids, a broken air conditioner on a 104 degree day, and an ant infestation that lasted an entire weekend.
Have you ever woken up to ants crawling on your skin in bed, biting as they go along?
Bite. Bite. Bite. Bite.
Well neither had I.