Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Water, Water Everywhere

Last night I went to bed with a headache early in the evening and my wonderful (seriously the most wonderful man you can imagine) husband put the kids to bed by himself.  Now, although my husband is Wonderman, he does sometime overlook small details.  Like remembering to put a diaper on the 4 year old before bed.  Or pajamas.  Whatever - the children got put safely in bed and that was the real triumph.  Thus the conversation I had with my four year old this morning: 

Sam, calling from the bathroom, "I'm done going potty!" 
Me, stumbling out of bed and making my way down the hallway, "Coming."
I enter the bathroom and notice that Sam is wearing the shirt he wore yesterday as he sits on the toilet.  This strikes me as odd and I wonder if he tried to dress himself before coming in the bathroom.  Then I look on the floor and see pants and underwear that look really dampish.  Things are starting to click.  This is not good.  I gingerly pick up the soiled pants with a finger thumb combination.  Definitely wet.  I look at Sam. 
"Why are your pants wet?" 
Sam, not missing a beat, goes into full blame mode, "Joe dumped water in them."  I look at the pants, the faucet, the floor to see if this assertion can be backed by solid evidence of a water attack.  There are no signs of foul play. 
"What do you mean, Joe dumped water in them?  Why would he do that?"
"He did it last night."  I wrinkle my nose and bring the wet clothes a bit closer.  Nope.  That is definitely a urine smell.  What we have here, ladies and gentlemen, is a lie. 
"No Sam, you must have had an accident." Though he continues to protest his innocence, I take in all the evidence.  No diaper.  Clothes from night before.  Husband put children to bed.  Clearly there will be more to clean.  I start the bathwater and head to the bedroom and start to dismantle the wet sheets, snugglies, blankets, etc.  As I head downstairs to the laundry room I am still thankful for my husband who took care of it all last night.  No joke.  Small price to pay when you feel like crap.  Feel bad for Sam though - sounds like a wet night.

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