A day of fishing! Catches all around! It was quite exciting. There really is nothing like your first catch. All four of these cute little boys were thrilled.
But the real fun came afterwards. (notice my tone here. It is meant to be sarcastic. very very sarcastic.)
Upon leaving, as we scooched back into our car to hunker down for the hours drive home we noticed a strong, oh so strong, odor emanating from the car. It wasn’t from one particular location really but a humid lingering air filling the cars entirety. With windows rolled down and noses pointed into the wind, we waved goodbye and discussed the fumigation process that would commence when we arrived home. Lee took the reigns on the de-stinking while I opted for the scrubbing of two very dirty boys. Everything was going so well. It really was, until both the boys were sitting on the couch wrapped up in warm clean towels while I sprinted downstairs to grab some shorts for them. Why did I do that? Why did I leave them? Why?! Have I learned nothing in my four years of parenting?
Apparently not because no sooner had I grabbed the shorts and turned around to go back up the stairs did I hear Miles yell to me, “Mama!!! Rowan pooped.” Oh yes, I wish I could say this is the first time this has happened. But alas, this boy prefers to do this deed in the bath tub or on the floor. Oh it is so fitting for the Rowan monster. So fitting. I came upstairs and questioned them on the location of the turd. They directed me to a dime size dropping on the floor and I smirked, feeling as though I had won the battle of mama vs the post bath time poop on floor event. Laughing at the gods of motherhood I walked into the bathroom looking for a rag to quickly wipe up the offensive substance when I felt the all too memorable warm squish leach between each of the toes on my right foot. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I looked down at my pretty braided bath mat and my rainbow toenails in utter disgust. Quickly hopping into the still full tub I yelped and cursed and fussed trying to get the nasty off my toes. And then I hear another scream. This time followed by a bang and a crash. Never a good sign. I ran to the stairs to find my naked Miles half way down the stairs with his head stuck between the railings. What the?! I couldn’t even begin to figure our how he got wedged like this. And so abrubtly and with so much noise? Honestly. No clue how this happened. No clue. Regardless, after a kiss to the noggin and a hug or two he was on his way. I turned around and swooped up Rowan thinking to myself, “hm. Did Rowan just slip in a puddle? Yes. Yes, it was a puddle. He is fine, maybe just damp from the bath! Right? Right?! No worries! I know its just water!” But, I knew it was a lie. I knew deep down inside I hadn’t finished what I started and that yes, yes… my hip was covered. My forearm the same. I still refused to look. It couldnt be so, becuase it was a puddle! A puddle! I lied him down to put his pajamas on and sure enough he was coated in a smear of oh-my-god-you-know-what-I-am-talking-about-please-let-this-night-be-over. Like now.
For one reason or another I took this opportunity of sticky mess that clearly was in need of another bath, for all involved to cut my oldests hair. As I have mentioned before, he likes it long. But it has gotten to the point of mullet as I insist on cutting the bang area if he wont wear a head band so that he can see, painful as the process is. He seemed ok with it tonight and to both our surprise, cutting it wet was all it took. He was cool with that.
Back in the tub. The freshly cleaned tub. And all was well with the world.
So, here he is pre hair cut, in all his thick golden glory. This is a post dedicated to the inches left for the birds.