Toilet

About 4 or 5 months ago, V discovered the joys of unraveling toilet paper. As a total neat freak, I was not happy about his discovery, although I did enjoy the silly noises he made while he trashed my bathroom. Can’t get mad at that!

All of the toilet paper immediately moved to the bathroom counter, behind the sink and completely out of reach of small, determined fingers.

Bathrooms are just not a great place for children. Ours all have doorknobs that he can open. They aren’t ‘knobs’ per se, but more like handles. So he is in and out of the bathrooms all the time and is carefully monitored when he is near a drawer.

He mostly pulls things out and throws them either into the basket by the toilet or the bath tub. Or he just places them carefully on top of the toilet. Toe nail clippers, contact lenses, hair accessories. The other day I caught him with a tampon in his mouth. And it was one of those o.b. ones too, which I haven’t bought in years so lord only knows where he got it from.

This afternoon, while I wallowed in sickness upstairs, he emerged from the bathroom with a handful of condoms. He then proceeded to giggle hysterically and run all over the bedroom with them. And then cried when I took them away… (mental note to self, find new place for condoms and tampons).

Back to the TP… I guess he forgot about it, or we did or we all did because gradually it was re-hung and no-one paid it any mind. Until last night.

M was brushing his teeth in front of the TV in the bedroom and I was on the other side of the house putting some laundry away. V was running back and forth between us. At some point we lost track of him, maybe for about 5 seconds.

We both heard some very giggly giggling. It was extra giggly. It was coming from the bathroom.

I peeked around the corner to see it awash in a sea of white. Paper everywhere. V kicking his feet. Toilet paper everywhere. As those little fat fingers reached for what was left on the roll I did a run and dive with a slo-mo “Noooooooooo…”.

I handed Mr Giggle to Daddy.

As he was carried, giggling, out of the bathroom, I surveyed the room.

M’s voice drifted in from across the way “Don’t worry Hun! I’ll reroll it!”

Ha! Really? It seriously would have taken all night. I scooped it all up and dumped it in the sink. Strict instructions were issued to actually use it.

Oh how I love parenthood and my sink toilet-paper!

xoxo a.m.

5 percent

V is a crack destructo-child.

Yesterday, as I was driving around with him, he reached up to his backseat window and methodically ripped the sunshade to shreds. By the time that I was able to pull over and attempt to rescue it, it was too late. Poor thing… It literally was in about 5 pieces, the shade was in tatters and covered in drool. Apparently most of it had also taken a trip to his mouth.

And currently it is residing in the dumpster. It was completely beyond saving. And this afternoon, while I was driving M’s car, V did the same this to his. It’s like he’s the Hulk or something…. he doesn’t know his own strength. He throws things around in a matter of fact manner. He is so casual about how he does it. I have gotten in the way of a few of those things he’s flung around…. man, cardboard books sure can sting when whipped at your feet.

Approximately half of his toys are missing pieces that have been forcefully removed, flung at the dog and then forgotten about. Forgotten about, that is, until I go and put them back in their correct spot. And then I get chased and the toy gets destroyed again. Really it is very funny. And reminds me of my husband….

M also leaves a trail of destruction throughout our house. However he is an adult (even though I am writing about him like he is on the same level as V…..and sometimes that’s true) and is able to pick up after himself. To an extent. There is always a little path of this and that, that follows him. A dirty sock, some crumpled pieces of paper, pens from Disney, partially opened pieces of mail, clothing draped and then ignored over my kitchen table chairs, wet towels on floor and bed… I could go on and on…

I would imagine that about 20% of my life involves picking up after my husband and 75% of my life involves picking up after my child. Which leaves 5% for me. 5% for little ol’ me…

Doesn’t sound like much but it’s just enough…