The Poop Monster Strikes Again!

[Photo purposely excluded] (You can thank me later. =)

Warning: if you're squeamish, stop reading now!

Last night was one of those nights . . . (Oh my gosh how many times have I started a post like this?!?!).

Left work a little later than usual, so didn't get to the kids' school til close to 6:30pm. Now you'd think they'd be happy to see me and anxious to leave. But as a testimony to the resiliency of kids, they've completely adapted to my new commute (resulting in picking them up late) and are as slow as ever in collecting themselves to go home. Not kidding. The process takes me at least a half hour!

So there's no food cooked at home, and I'd totally intended on fixing the pork loin in the fridge, but it would be at least an hour in prepping that - which would put dinner close to 8pm -and I just wasn't feeling that last night.

While I was lamenting the non-existance of home-cooked, Irish fast food, I suddenly remembered it was Tuesday night! Kids eat free at CiCi's! Yes! While it's not pot pies and casseroles and tea and brown bread on the go, it would suffice for tonight.

You may be asking yourself, "Where's the poop monster?!" Have patience my friends, he's coming.

In true Micky fashion, my eating machine managed to put away four slices of cheese pizza, a bowl of pasta, two cinnamon rolls and a large glass of lemonade. We even had to take a slice of pizza to go because we were all done and Micky still wanted to eat!

We made it home by 8pm and then I remembered it was bath night! Grrr. (No, I do NOT bathe the kids every night. If you've ever been present for any of the bath nights you'd understand. Plus, my pediatrician has always supported this idea; if they're not actually dirty, they don't need a bath every day. Dries out their skin.)

So . . . Got Micky done and out of the way first. Hurdle One triumphantly jumped. Got him in his pull-up (though potty trained, he still wears a pull-up at night) and new footsie pajamas (that he also happened to insist I wearing over his clothes to school that morning). Then sent him downstairs to play while Renton took his bath.

After much reminding that it was "quick bath" not "play bath" tonight (now 8:45) I finally heard Renton pull the plug and get out of the tub. Now to round up Emily . . .

While I'm coaxing her away from her toys, I hear Micky in the bathroom shout out "Ooooh! Gross!" I laugh a little to myself thinking how much Micky's speech has been improving lately.

Then I hear Emily shout from the bathroom, "Oh no!!! Disgusting!!! Micky!!!"

My heart sinks.

This cannot be good.

And it wasn't.

I run into the bathroom to find Micky, standing in the middle of his half unzipped diahrreah-filled footsie jammies, holding a diahhreah-filled pull-up, pooped smeared all over his backside and down his legs, and under his feet, quick-dry poop smeared on and cemented to all levels of the toilet seat and bathroom floor, WADS of poop-covered toilet paper filling the bowl and squished in his little hands, while he innocently looks up at me and proclaims, beaming a proud smile, "It ok Mamma. I clean it!"