Bad Mama; Good Story

And now an interlude from the usual theme of poop. Though there are stories to tell about that, as always, you must have a break from it in order to appreciate it. Today's story involves beer.

The beginning: yesterday, I got sick. Perhaps another case of food poisoning, as Mas seems to be going through something too. Superdad had to come home from work early to take care of the kids, and I was down for the count until about 10 pm. The wee ones, of course, couldn't go easy on him. Though Superdad got Mas to bed at 7:30, Mas didn't go to sleep until 9:30, coming out of his room every 20 minutes to use the potty . . . and use is a very loose term that really means pretend to use. Between the potty breaks, there was unwanted musical entertainment coming from his room. And, of course, Shaifali stirred and cried every time Mas got up, causing Superdad to run from room to room trying to calm the masses.

We barely keep the house together when there is a 1:1 ratio, so I should have realized our house was going to be ridiculous when I saw it today.

Me to myself: "Why is there a half an avocado that has been left on the counter to rot?"

Me to myself 10 seconds later: "Oh. Because poor Superdad was by himself last night."

Me to myself: "Why are Mas's pants and plastic diaper covers on the floor in the bathroom?"

Me to myself 10 seconds later: "Oh. Because poor Superdad was by himself last night."

Me to myself: "Why is there a half-eaten can of turkey chili that has been left on the counter to rot?"

Me to myself 10 seconds later: "Oh. Because poor Superdad was by himself last night."

I could go on.

I was sitting on the bed in the guest room, where the remains of Superdad's night lay on the bedside table, when I see out of the corner of my eye a child with a bottle:

When I saw him, he actually had the bottle to his mouth. At first I said, "no, no, no." Then I changed my mind and said, "go show Daddy." He did. Superdad lodged a complaint that our child smelled like beer a minute later. Child lodged a complaint a minute later with a slightly sour look on his face that his mouth hurt/didn't taste good. Bad mama; good story.

Disclaimer: I posed him for this picture after the fact, putting the bottle in hand yet again.

Editor's note request by Superdad: He had consumed the whole beer; the beer smell was just from the bottle. No minor consumption of alcohol.