Sunday naps are mandatory at our house. After church, our bodies are hit by a state of exhaustion as if we had been drugged with Benadryl. We have no choice. The boys are fed and shuffled off to bed and we quickly collapse. In the good 'ol days, the boys would fall asleep easily. We might have to sit on their toy box and wait for their eyes to close, but it would eventually happen. Now, that's a rarity. However, they usually are able to play quietly in their room while we get some rest. Usually.
Today, we came home from church, got into play clothes, wolfed down some sandwiches, and managed to make it upstairs before our bodies completely gave out of energy. The boys' nap looked promising. They have had their bunk beds for only a couple weeks now, so they are excited about getting into bed. Jeff and I were asleep in seconds flat. I could hear them playing, but they were playing quietly in their rooms... all was well.
I woke up to hear breathing in my face. Asa's little face was right in mine, "Mommy, I need to go potty." He went potty and went back to bed. A while later, he showed up again. "Mommy, can you fix my truck's wheel?" I fumbled around without truly opening my eyes, fixed the wheel, and told him this was rest time. He went back to his room. A while later I heard him again at my bed. "Asa, get back in your room." I said with all the energy I could muster. He didn't move. "Asa, you need to go get some rest, and Mommy and Daddy need our nap." He was quiet for a little while and then said, "But Addison isn't wearing any underwear and he's stinking up the room."
With that, Jeff and I went instantly propelled upright and were in their room in seconds flat. Sure enough, Addison was in a shirt and no underwear. He had an accident. A poo-poo accident. He looked like a deer in headlights... a deer with no underwear and poo smeared up his back and down his legs. Jeff and I went from a peaceful Sunday nap to a full out HAZMAT situation in .2 seconds. He took Addison to the bath, and I stripped his bed, and began disinfecting everything the child could have possibly touched. He had been up in his bed, on the top, so he had it on the rails and ladder. The doorknobs... what else... I was a whirlwind... I was Mr. Clean on speed. But, where are the underwear? I went downstairs and Jeff was almost finished with Addison.
I asked him where he stashed the evidence. "In the utility room in the laundry basket". Now, I applaud both his attempt to handle the situation himself and the fact that the underwear actually made it to the appropriate location (see the August 5th entry on the cornfield). However, I was mortified at the realization that he had been all over the entire house doing who knows what with poo on his hands and naked body.
Okay, utility room... I rushed off the disinfect the doorknobs and sides of the laundry basket before asking him what else he had done. "I tried to wash it off my hands". The sink, got it. The bathroom door, check. The next 10 minutes were spent in a mad rush to get any invisible trace of fecal matter off of every surface I could imagine. Finally, we were content with the clean up job, redressed Addison, and let him play for another 5 minutes while we collapsed yet again on the bed to regroup. We looked at each other and laughed. Ahh, the peace of Sunday naps. "I love you" Jeff said. "I love Clorox wipes" I replied.
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