So after the playplace closing and the fallen tree, we made it back at last to take some time to collect ourselves and reclaim the day. Before I venture on to Part II, I do need to share two details that will become paramount to the telling of the backend of the story.
1) We live off a farm and this psuedo-pastoral existance allows for some very pretty views as well as new opportunities to brush up on my Spanish. On the downside, at the end of July, I have to store all fruit in the fridge, hide away all fragrant soaps, and be vigilant in keeping my sink, table, and countertops free from any crumbs or stickiness. Why? As the crops are harvested and the passed over veggies are left to rot, fruit flies can appear in droves...a big nuisance and the last thing you need when trying to sell your home.
2) Joseph is in full-on potty training boot camp. He wears a diaper to bed and for naps, a pull-up for outings, and his beloved "big boys" for all the time in between. He's doing okay, save for a few errant dribbles and the absence of any real movements for an entire day (I'm considering a blueberry drip, but more on that later).
Sooooo.....we make it back to the house where I quickly set up some games so they can enjoy some distractions while I pull together lunch. Of course, they want everything I didn't pull out and so, within minutes, I'm setting up Pretty, Pretty Princess and trying to locates the vanished "Mater" Ride-on that my son needs right away.
Searching, searching, searching....and finally finding the little vehicular redneck in the dining room. Happy to have finally found him, I jovially hoist him in triumph for Joseph to see, only to find a trail of fluid coming from his centrally located trunk.
Did some fairy come and turn him into a real truck a la Pinocchio?
It seems Joseph, who's always enjoyed the hideway spot to stash his toys also decided to stash his straw-equipped sippy cup there....about two days ago.
The result: I open the trunk to find a now half-full cup emitting an acrid, cider like smell followed quickly by a hoard of fruit flies who had finally found a reason to hang out at my house.
"Yes, buddy....but wait....I'm going to have to...." I'm trying to explain to my now excited and confused son who can't understand why Mater needs a bath. I throw Mater in the utility sink for a scrub down as Joseph clings to my legs.
"Just a minute, buddy, we have to wash him down..."
"Mom! Mom!" he continues, while trying to mount Mater as I set him down and take to him with a stack of clorox wipes.
"Almost done, buddy," as I polish him off with some paper towels....good as tow truck new.
"Mom!" I finally decided to make eye contact with my son who is so excited to be reunited with his ride-on friend that he hops on, forgetting the real reason for his pleas.
He then proceeds to release his pent up bladder all over the unsuspecting utility truck.
I was ready for a nap and Mater was once again sent to the utility sink for a much needed bath.
It wasn't even 11 AM yet.
I'm 32, a dad, and I am not a douchebag...
6 years ago