If you're a semi-regular regular at this blog, or as I sometime refer to it "My slow descent into the Abyss of Insanity" you may recall we're having a bit of difficulty potty training Trot.
By "bit" I mean the boy has peed/pooped in almost every room on every floor and in every available receptacle while avoiding the actual bathroom like it had a 3 headed monster living in it. Thankfully this normally happens when I'm at work but it also means my two days off each week turn into a real life version of "Beat the Clock", usually ending with Trot victorious and me sobbing quietly in the laundry room.
Mercifully the most recent incident happened on Friday afternoon with me safely tucked away at work and roughly 20 miles upwind. Ang took Heckle and Jeckle out to play and before she could utter her first "Get OUT of the neighbors garage!" he'd turned his pants into fertilizer.
Getting him out of his clothes, she goes inside to put it all in the washing machine with a stern "Stay RIGHT here in the garage until I get back."
Naturally she found him in the back yard, buck naked and climbing around the OUTSIDE of the play fort, with poop all over his butt and legs mind you, while my next door neighbor and her elderly mother watched this spectacle unfolding from their back deck.
(For a visual, where she found him was on the 1 inch wide 2x4 directly to Ciera's left)
She was finally able to get him completely clean by making him stand beside the house while she hosed him off with the water hose. Sort of like how they clean up the elephants at the circus now that I think about it.
The woman is a saint.
Considering the only thing that helps me cling to the fragile thread of sanity I have left is Red Sox baseball, this whole Yankee series, while almost giving me a stroke, is definitely helping. Comeback win in the 11th Friday night, down 0-6 yesterday only to deliver an epic beat down 16-11, I've got my broom on standby.
Cotton balls for my ears due to the ESPN telecast? Check.
Sox cap? Check.
Throw pillow to muffle the yelling/cursing? Check.
Masterson vs Pettitte. Fenway Park. 8 p.m.
Let's get it on.