So, I was having a nice Easter conversation with my sister during the boys’ naptime today when I heard my husband bellow:
BRIT! COME IN HERE BEFORE I KILL SOMEONE!!!
I sweetly informed my sister that my husband seemed to be needing some assistance and skipped lightly to the boys room.
Their room where they were supposed to be napping.
Napping so that their father and I could pull ourselves together so we could do three-year-old-twin-parenting for the second half of the day.
I got to the door of their room and my jaw dropped.
It was white. As in white as snow.
Except it was baby powder. Covering EVERYTHING. The walls, the beds, floor, toys, books, sheets, pillows, blankets, EVERYTHING. Pure white. Everywhere.
Except where there was poop.
On the walls, on the floor, on the sheets, pillows, stuffed animals, little pieces of stuffing that they pulled out of pillows.
My children were white. Covered. Encrusted in powder.
And poop covered.
My husband was angry.
No, that is too mild a word. Perhaps “ballistic” might suit better.
All I could do was laugh. (I have discovered that this is my go-to response when I feel completely out of control. Funny, huh?) How do you start to clean up a mess of such epic (and I mean epic!) proportions?
I wish we had gotten a picture of the mess. It was pretty amazing. How do two such young children wreak such havoc in such a short time? Amazing.
Sadly, Aaron and I were in such a..um..delicate…emotional state to take a picture.
Here is some of the aftermath though. This is AFTER we vacuumed with our regular vacuum AND the shop vac, AND scrubbed the, shall we say, “messes” off the floor.