Friday, January 8, 2016

That Thing Almost Went Up My Butt!

I have no idea what it's like to act. I especially have no idea what it's like to get paid to act. But I imagine living with our 18 month old is comparable to acting as the lead supporting role to a demanding, high profile actor who doesn't know if he wants to specialize in drama or comedy. Let me explain.
Dillon has always had a love affair with cleaning supplies. It's guaranteed that there will be an immediate power struggle between adult and child as soon as I start using the toothbrush, broom, pooper scooper, toilet brush, or anything of the sort. Sometimes I just start cleaning with no intentions of actually getting anything done, just so I can distract him for a few minutes. And it may not earn me Mom of the Year Award, but when I'm getting ready, I even stoop to letting him play in the toilet if it means he's content enough to let me leave the house without looking like I'm a crack head on the brink of withdrawals going grocery shopping at the Bellmead Walmart. He was doing just that (playing in the toilet with the toilet brush) right before we rushed out the door for an appointment the other morning. After a full day of running around living life, Patrick and I crawled into bed and pulled up the covers with great big sighs of relief........that lasted for about 5 seconds. True to form, Patrick decides (as soon as we got comfortable) that he needs to relieve his bladder. 
This is the part he may kill me for typing, but it's a crucial detail to this story: Most of the time, at night, my husband sits down to pee. That's right. He sits. It's actually quite convenient to have a husband who sits to pee. They never pee on the floor, and you never as a lady, have to worry about falling in the toilet. It's actually way more common than one would think. I recently discovered several women I work with train the male figures in their house (old and young) to sit to pee. Luckily, mine came pre-trained.

There I was, laying in bed with my eyes half open, patiently waiting for my real life giant body pillow to return, when I heard a screech. 
"OH. MY. GOSH. Hunny!!!!" he wailed.
"What, Dear?"
"Are you trying to kill me?? That thing almost went up my butt!!!" 
My mind flashed back to Dillon playing with the toilet brush and I immediately put two and two together. (Four!......just kidding) The toilet brush handle was still standing straight up, erecting from the center of the bowl. 
"Ha!!! I'm so glad that was you and not me! I totally forgot about that." I taunted. 
Dillon already dislikes taking the blame for anything. He also can kill about two bananas in one sitting (which he does just about every time we pass by the bananas at the grocery store), but for some reason, refuses to eat the last bite of each section he is holding.
Two days ago, we were hanging around the house when he decided he wanted a banana. I gave him half and he started chowing down, while roaming the living room. A few minutes later, I found part of a squooshed banana laying on the floor.
He came my way and made eye contact with me.
"Did you put your banana on the floor?"
Without hesitation he shakes his head no.
"Oh really.......Well if you didn't do it, who did?"
You won't believe this is, but I swear I'm not making it up: Dillon points directly at poor little innocent Sumo, who was sleeping on the couch, and starts mumbling while shaking his head. 
Our kid who's not even old enough to say more than 15 words is lying straight to my face and blackmailing the dog simultaneously.
 I can't blame him, but I was completely shocked, horrified, tickled, and slightly proud.
It's a good thing he gives really good kisses and bribes me with acorns from the neighbor's yard. I'll consider that getting paid with love. 


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