Glossy

Edward had a bit of a rough day yesterday. Not so much with the V-bot, more so with some phone services that we needed that he wasn’t able to access because of customer stupidity.

Yes, that’s right. BrightHouse is a bastard. And their customer service sucks.

And while he was waiting, V got a little bored. And while he was bored, he trashed the place. And once he finished trashing the downstairs of the house, apparently they went upstairs. I am assuming this was because we recently just came into possession of a large amount of trains, which is, clearly, not as effective  as one would think at distracting a wee man.

Guess what did?

Guess!

I couldn’t guess either.

I just got a stressed phone-call, one that forgot the part where you say “Hi! How was your day!” to your spouse and, instead, launch into how your 2 year old ‘found’ YOUR lip gloss and is now covered in it.

I scares me to think of what was going on to make that happen.

That call included things like “I haven’t left the house yet to pick you up. I have to clean the lip gloss off of V first.” And “I haven’t cleaned anything all day”. Oh, and ” I hate BrightHouse”.

V was mostly clean when I saw him. And lip gloss-free.

As was most of the downstairs.

We came home from our errands and I went upstairs immediately with V to get him ready first.

And this next bit? Possibly TMI. So prepare yourself.

Getting V ready for bed, I hit the potty. And stuck to the seat. And this took a few extra seconds to process.

What? What was this?

Oh, great. My Victorias Secret lip gloss. The one in the tin… purposefully bought as to be more difficult to open. And apparently it wasn’t. It is (was) hot pink and sparkly.

And it was (is) all over my great-grandfather’s nightstand that my Mum brought down this past spring from Canada. And also all over the lamp-shade.

And my toilet seat. And my ass.

And after he went to bed? I found it on my carpet and my lampshade. And then on my tv stands, one of our door frames, a few door knobs and then probably a few spots that I haven’t noticed.

It feels like everything I touch is sticky and I am afraid to sit down anywhere.

Last night I decided to go to bed with a tube of lip gloss instead. I need my gloss. It’s a genetic issue. Must moisturize lips.

And this morning, I had to wrestle my gloss away from V. He twisted the lid off and tried to swallow it. Lovely.

And the whole time he screamed “Mine. MINE!!”

I think I should just have some gloss injected into my finger/arm instead of a tube on my night table. That would definitely cause less issues….

Regardless, love the sticky boy. And the stressed husband.

xoxo a.m.

4 Comments

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4 responses to “Glossy

  1. Feely McNeale

    Sounds like another sticky situation.

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