Well, it started out good...

This morning was beautiful. The sun is shining, it was in the high 60's low 70's, perfect. Perfect. I got up early, set Alden up with a nice breakfast of waffles and fruit, talked to my mom on the phone for an hour, and decided to go take a nap. The perfect napping weather. All the windows open, sun warming the pillows.

Alden seemed ok, eating, watching a little TV. All was right with the world.

15 minutes into my nap. "The dog puked in the bathroom, mommy" He's a capable boy. They're his dogs, too. Not one to give up the nap so easily, I said "go clean it up, with paper towels" And that was that.

He comes in a little later and says "I'm waiting for it to dry, it's too slimy." I told him to just clean it up, and make sure he washes his hands really good, after.

After the phone ringing about 6 times, all the interruptions, I decided it was time to give up the ghost, and say fuck the nap. Dissapointing, but I'm ok with it.

The very first thing I noticed was a looooong trail of paper towels leading out of the bathroom (or into) all still hooked together. I counted 14. Followed the trail into the bathroom, where I was greeted by a the sight of a small mountain of paper towels. Every square inch of the bathroom floor is covered in paper towels, some, inexplicably, have clothes pins clipped to them. Topping off the whole scene, is the empty roll standing on end, on the toilet lid. The layers thicken around the middle of the floor, creating an almost plateau-like effect.

"what's this?"

"I didn't want to touch the puke"

"You know, most people can get the job done with one or two paper towels."

*silence*

"pick them all up, put them in the garbage, and I'm taking $3 out of your bank, to pay for a replacement roll. Make sure you clean up the puke, underneath. Wash your hands when you're done, and then come talk to me"

"ok"

No yelling. No voice raising. He's a good boy, a smart boy. I thought we handled it well.

Then I walked into the living room. Background: My living room carpet is a very deep hunter green. Not today, though. Today, it was white, with some green poking through it.

I'm not a screamy mother. I seldom raise my voice. This time, I think I just gasped, and maybe let out a little screech.

"What is all over the floor?" (still calm, though, strained)

"um. powder."

That's when the smell hits me. It's rather mentholated. He dusted the entire living room with Gold Bond.

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"

"It smelled good, and I wanted to trace my toys on the floor."

Oh yeah, look at that, there's outlines of trolls and GI goes. Huh, cool.

"WITH GOLD BOND?! THAT SHIT COSTS 10 bucks a bottle!!!! LOOK AT THIS MESS WHAT THE FUCK POSESSED YOU!?!" (I'd pretty much ditched calm, by now)

*silence*

"*sigh* When you're done with the bathroom, you can come in here and clean this shit up. I'm taking another $10 out of your bank, for the cost of the powder, and when you're done in here, you can spend the rest of the day in your room. You can't seem to be trusted today."

"but..."

"go. now. before I start yelling again."


That wouldn't be bad, if that were it. I wish it were. He finished the bathroom, then I help him in the living room, moving my stuff around, so he can clean better. Then I had to pee.

Bathroom looks pretty good. I disinfected the floor, though, just to be extra clean about it. The kitchen garbage is filled with the spent roll of paper towels, all is well.

Till I opened the lid of the toilet.

Picture if you will, a solid wet mass of paper towels, coming halfway up the inside of the bowl. No water, but, only paper towels. There's more. Perched on top of the paper towels is a neat little pile of poop. So well arranged, you would think someone sculpted it there. The poop was entirely out of the water. It looked like it was drying, there.

I didn't scream. I might have let out a half-barking whoop. Shut the lid. Walked into the living room.

"did you put paper towels in the toilet?"

"yes" (he's such an honest kid)

"knowing the toilet was clogged, did you then poop on top of the paper towels?"

"I had to go"

*erk*

I closed the lid, closed the door and walked back into the living room. He resumed toiling away at the powder, but he wasn't doing so well.

At this point, I was at a juncture. Don some rubber gloves, and handle the situation, without getting too worked up. Then pee in peace. OR Walk past the closed up bathroom, and go pee in the yard. Or, pee in the bathtub. I did what any one of you would do. I sat down at the computer, and bitched to a friend about it. He confirmed that I should, indeed leave the door closed, and probably sell the house. I was getting desperate. I went back there, and stood in the doorway, staring maniacally at the tub.

Just then, the door opened up. Bill to the rescue!!! He noticed the strange look on my face. He came over, to see what I was looking at. I pointed at the toilet lid.

The situation basically took care of itself, from there. He's a screamer. He ranted and raved, and yelled at poor Alden. He screamed, but while he screamed, he threw on the trusty rubber gloves, and took care of the situation. He made Alden stand there and watch while he pulled a full 300 lbs of sodden, shit covered paper towels out of the bowl. He made him tie the bag, and drag it outside. All the while, I was sorta telling the morning's events, backwards.

The toilet got taken care of. I redisinfected the floor, toilet, walls, etc... I got to go pee. Alden was in his room, crying. Bill made some lunch for us.

I had to stick Alden in the shower, after lunch, though. All that shit, puke, and powder, god knows what was on him. He's clean, and calm. I'm calm and relieved. The living room still looks like it snowed.

I'm, like, tired again.

Maybe I should go take a nap...