As many of you know, we’re potty training Smush. I’m almost afraid to jinx it, but I think she finally got the hang of it! Not without many setbacks, mind you, but I see Dora underwear in her very near future. Thank God in heaven.
That being said, one of those setbacks happened this week. I don’t have any pictures this time. You’ll thank me later.
The Nerd really nailed the potty training thing when he brought home lollipops. I know, using food as a reward isn’t the best idea. I know, using candy is even worse.
I also know I needed her to poop on the freakin potty.
And she totally did. She carried around a lollipop all day, as a visual reminder, that if she just shimmied her little tush to the bathroom, she could open it up and devour it in all its sugary glory.
I was thrilled. I put on her big girl underpants and let her play. Once she pooped, I kind of figure I’m free for the rest of the day from accidents.
I was sorely mistaken.
In her defense, she tried. She just didn’t make it. Can’t fault the poor kid there. But I can absolutely fault her in what followed.
I took her to the bathroom to clean her up. This ended up being a level 4 quarantine situation, so I ran to get back-up wipes.
When I came back … the horror. It was … everywhere. Three huge smears on the bathtub. All over the toilet. Down her legs. On her feet.
How do you even do that? Seriously. I would like an explanation regarding the laws of physics as to how it is humanly possible to spread that much poop over that far an area in the time it takes to grab extra wipes.
I shudder. Anyway. I cleaned her. And everything in a 3 mile radius. Thoroughly. With bleach. And then I thought, “Well, look on the bright side. The bathroom is nice and clean now.”
How easily we forget.
In a house with rabid honey badgers children, nothing is ever truly clean for very long.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should have been more on my game. I should have known. But I wasn’t. I didn’t. And God help me, I left the peanut butter jar on the counter while I was in the other room.
What ensued required a post-clean-up of at least 30 minutes. She dipped her little hands in. She licked it off. She dipped again.
And then she went to the bathroom. And she finger painted. Everything. The toilet and bathtub I had just sanitized. The mirror. The sink. The floor. The counter. Everything was covered in peanut butter.
Do you know how easily peanut butter wipes off porcelain and tile surfaces? No? That’s because it doesn’t. It kind of smears all over and you go through 1,200 Lysol wipes and then you maybe go a little crazy and think that padlocks and leashes sound like a fabulous idea.
Sigh.
Why do I even bother?
