I’m not going to write about the fact that when I got home from work yesterday and went upstairs, I found Boy #3 sitting—STUCK—on a shelf in the walk-in closet, snot all over his face from crying and poop smeared down his legs and all over the shelf. I’m not going to tell you that he was crying the saddest cry I’ve ever seen him cry because Boy #2 had just left him there and went outside, and Daddy couldn’t hear him yelling because of the TV. I’m not going to tell you that when I asked Boy #2 why he left his brother there, he said, “I didn’t want to touch him because he was poopy!” I’m not going to tell you that Boy #3 was wearing boxer shorts when he pooped his pants and had obviously pooped BEFORE he climbed onto the shelf as evidenced by the smudged poop on the video chair and trail of turdlets on the carpet. I’m not going to tell you about this one-step-closer-to-having-DHS-knock-on-our-door moment.
Whoops…I guess I just did.
Instead, I’ll tell you what I heard Boy #2 say to himself as we were sitting in the movie theater last night, waiting for Kung Fu Panda to start (GREAT movie, btw, especially for boys!).
“This is the best day of my life.”
Apparently, we don’t let our kids get out much.
Nonetheless, I was pleased to have given one of our children the “best day of his life.” (I’m betting that Boy #3 wouldn’t rank the day quite as high.)