The other day when I was picking up Mackenzie from daycare, Susan, (my
daycare lady) bent over to talk to one of the kids. She stood up with a
crinkled nose and said, "Whoops! I think someone pooped, but I don't
know who it is."
Instead of checking to see if it was my daughter, I raised my arm and sniffed my armpit.
First of all, I don't make a habit of sniffing my armpits in private, let alone in the company of other adults.
Second, to my recollection, my pits have never smelled like shit. Ever. I'm fairly certain there is a strong distinction between BO and Crap.
Third... Mackenzie was the poopy pants culprit. I swear she does this crap (pardon the pun) to set me up.
~~~~~
When we got home I made the kids some chocolate milk that I had earlier promised.
We literally walked in the door and I headed straight for the kitchen. Made the chocolate milk as I told the kids to take off their shoes and coats. I handed out said chocolate milk and headed to the living room. We had been home for a total of 8 minutes.
Hmmm. What's that smell? I brushed it off to my downstairs neighbour cooking. Wait. I don't have a downstairs neighbour anymore. He moved out of the basement suite a month ago. Alright. What's that smell? It smell hot. This is not good.
I went into the kitchen and saw that the only stove element that I never use is on. And since That element is never used, there is a plate on it. With tinfoil. And on top of the tinfoil? An unopened bag of chocolate chips.
I reach over, and turn the element off. then, being the smart, clever woman that I am, I grab the plate and remove it from the stove. Hot DAMN! That's hot! Go figure. In a matter of minutes the plate had cracked from the heat and half the chocolate chips were melted.
The stove had been turned onto medium. I had to stop and think "When did I turn it on?, why did I use that element?, and why didn't I turn it off?? I NEVER leave the oven or stove on.
I know Braden would never turn the stove on on purpose. I do know however, that he can do things subconsciously. He may have been fiddling with the knob while waiting for his chocolate milk.
You know what I found out at bedtime?
It wasn't Braden.
It was Mackenzie!
I thought I *knew* someone was lying coughBradencough, OR that someone had been not paying attention coughBradecough. But I really didn't think it was Mackenzie!
I didn't get mad at the kids. I explained the dangers of touching the stove and scared Mackenzie into thinking all of her prized possessions (you know, stuffed Nemo, Barbie movies etc) could catch on fire at the mere thought of touching the stove again.
I have heard that boys are "easier" than girls, but I also thought it that it would be the boy's job to burn the house down. Not the girl!
~~~~~
Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I went to the kitchen toget a midnight snack
wash some dishes. I noticed the back door was unlocked. And ajar. I
panicked. I had been home for hours, and never realized someone had
been in my house?!
Luckily God noticed I clearly could handle no more that day, as I was reminded by the giant blue recycling bag that I had been tripping over all evening... After dinner that night, I asked Braden to bring the recycle bag into the kitchen so I wouldn't forget to put it out with the garbage the next day.
The good news is:
I'm not going the type of crazy I thought I was going.
The stove hadn't been on all day, or we would have come home to nothing.
My armpits do not smell like poo.
The bad news:
I forgot to put out the recycle bag the next day.
And went to bed with the back door still open, and didn't re-realize it until the next afternoon.
Give me a "D"! Give me a "U"! Give me an "H"!
Seriously now. Where is my padded room??
Instead of checking to see if it was my daughter, I raised my arm and sniffed my armpit.
First of all, I don't make a habit of sniffing my armpits in private, let alone in the company of other adults.
Second, to my recollection, my pits have never smelled like shit. Ever. I'm fairly certain there is a strong distinction between BO and Crap.
Third... Mackenzie was the poopy pants culprit. I swear she does this crap (pardon the pun) to set me up.
~~~~~
When we got home I made the kids some chocolate milk that I had earlier promised.
We literally walked in the door and I headed straight for the kitchen. Made the chocolate milk as I told the kids to take off their shoes and coats. I handed out said chocolate milk and headed to the living room. We had been home for a total of 8 minutes.
Hmmm. What's that smell? I brushed it off to my downstairs neighbour cooking. Wait. I don't have a downstairs neighbour anymore. He moved out of the basement suite a month ago. Alright. What's that smell? It smell hot. This is not good.
I went into the kitchen and saw that the only stove element that I never use is on. And since That element is never used, there is a plate on it. With tinfoil. And on top of the tinfoil? An unopened bag of chocolate chips.
I reach over, and turn the element off. then, being the smart, clever woman that I am, I grab the plate and remove it from the stove. Hot DAMN! That's hot! Go figure. In a matter of minutes the plate had cracked from the heat and half the chocolate chips were melted.
The stove had been turned onto medium. I had to stop and think "When did I turn it on?, why did I use that element?, and why didn't I turn it off?? I NEVER leave the oven or stove on.
I know Braden would never turn the stove on on purpose. I do know however, that he can do things subconsciously. He may have been fiddling with the knob while waiting for his chocolate milk.
You know what I found out at bedtime?
It wasn't Braden.
It was Mackenzie!
I thought I *knew* someone was lying coughBradencough, OR that someone had been not paying attention coughBradecough. But I really didn't think it was Mackenzie!
I didn't get mad at the kids. I explained the dangers of touching the stove and scared Mackenzie into thinking all of her prized possessions (you know, stuffed Nemo, Barbie movies etc) could catch on fire at the mere thought of touching the stove again.
I have heard that boys are "easier" than girls, but I also thought it that it would be the boy's job to burn the house down. Not the girl!
~~~~~
Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I went to the kitchen to
Luckily God noticed I clearly could handle no more that day, as I was reminded by the giant blue recycling bag that I had been tripping over all evening... After dinner that night, I asked Braden to bring the recycle bag into the kitchen so I wouldn't forget to put it out with the garbage the next day.
The good news is:
I'm not going the type of crazy I thought I was going.
The stove hadn't been on all day, or we would have come home to nothing.
My armpits do not smell like poo.
The bad news:
I forgot to put out the recycle bag the next day.
And went to bed with the back door still open, and didn't re-realize it until the next afternoon.
Give me a "D"! Give me a "U"! Give me an "H"!
Seriously now. Where is my padded room??
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