to see who wins the "what the hell" award. If you're an astute reader, you may have picked up on the stronger language. It is no longer the "what the hey" award... it's all going to hell.
Let me set the scene here for you...
Julie's at the store, kids are upstairs, Ana's napping and I'm cleaning out the kitchen sink and washing some dishes. The three older ones appear in the kitchen and I ask where are Rachael and Lyndsey?
"Upstairs."
I say, "They can't be left alone, someone needs to get them down, they can't be trusted."
Emmah and Nick tromp back up. Upon doing so, I hear some commotion going on and stupidly ask, "what's going on?" Emmah comes down and asks, "where are the (baby) wipes?" I naturally ask why, what do you need them for? "We need to wipe the poo off Nick's bed."
The WHAT off the what?!?
Seems Rachael "went" upstairs and apparently felt the urge to go "fishing". According to her... in her own words... she "wanted to see what it felt like" adding "it felt pretty good". She then proceeded (I think) to wipe her hand on Nick's bed. Bypassing completely the sink (as well as the need to wash her hands in said sink merely two feet away) en route to Nick's bed .
After chastising her, I asked why Nick's bed? Why didn't you wipe it on your bed?
Her answer... "then I'd have to clean my bed".
Oh what fun it is to be a parent...
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