Hubs is at a meeting, I'm washing strawberries (i.e. throwing half of them out because somehow the ones that looked fine IN the store are all grody by the time I get them home) for our camping trip, Monsoon is playing in his room. Or so I thought.
"Uh-oh, Mommy. I got my shoes dirty!"
Odd, since he is in fact inside our house and although I'm not the best housekeeper, there's nothing I can think of that could dirty his shoes unless he's stuck them in the toilet. Crap, he's probably stuck them in the toilet.
Nope. I walk into the living room, which is now covered in tiny shoe-print shaped mud. Nope, not mud. Dog vomit.
So I mentioned that I'm not a great housekeeper... I managed to keep the profanities in my head (how hard it was), clean him up and go back to packing. 20 minutes later....
"Uh-oh, Mommy. That fing fell in there!"
CA-RAP. I'm an idiot. I cleaned up the boy and went right back to packing - leaving the vomit tracks all over the living room. Seriously, I forgot. How does that happen? It happens sometimes in circle houses where there are two routes to the kitchen and I take the one where I don't look at the vomit tracks. So what fell in where, you ask?
My husband's sleeping bag fell into the pile of vomit. It didn't so much "fall" in as I'm pretty sure it was pushed. Profanities not so much only in my head anymore.
What am I doing about it? Told the boy to go play in his room while I cleaned it up, and came in here to blog about it. Yeah, I should probably go clean up the mess before Hubs gets home.
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