So I rush to the front room, where Bob the Builder is going, and I don't see Garrett. But I do hear a little rustle in "his corner". It's not actually his corner. It was the cat's. It's back behind a big chair, that sits in the corner of our front room, with an antique door that is behind it that used to access this tiny little porch that is the size of our George Foreman grill. It's the cats' place because they love to look out that door that has ten glass panes in it, to see the birds in the overgrown bush-tree right outside AND it's the only place where we can hide that hideous thing where cats lay/scratch/play with a hanging toy. OMG, I hate that thing. But I am too humane (oh yes, the humanity that bubbles forth from me) to yank out the cats' claws, so I have to have SOMETHING, otherwise my couch and chairs look like confetti. So, where this used to be the safe place that the cats would go to be cats, it has now turned in to the toddler corner where one tries to get away with all manner of TOTALLY ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES.
So I go over to the corner, and I brace myself, cause it's usually not good when he is hiding and being as still as he can be. And the first thing I see is some books. OK, that's fine. He does love to look at all of his books. But then I see the GIANT orange juice container...only it's empty...and this morning it was practically full. And so, before I even go any further with the dissection of naughtiness I say really loudly, "TIME OUT"...and he doesn't even stop to think about it. Usually, I am kind of half dragging his fat little potato head body to the corner of our hall where he serves his 1.5 minutes of time for whatever infraction he is paying off. But this time, he runs there. Like he knows he is WAY safer there than with me.
So, I pick up a book, and yep- it's dripping with OJ. It's everywhere. Under the potted plant, around the base of that cat-climber-thing, under the lamp, and in the pages of every one of his books. It's at times like this where I have the fleeting thought, "I could get my keys and get in the car and start driving, and just go till I hit Vegas". But I also had this thought: "I could get the towels, mop up this OJ, pick up the dripping books, take them to the kitchen to see if any of them are salvageable, get Clorox wipes to get the stickiness up, and then get a clean rag to wipe up the wetness from the Clorox wipe." Guess which thought won out? And lucky me, I hadn't vacuumed back there in...oh, two days- so there were dust bunnies the size of small animals that had helped to absorb the liquid. Happy days.
Unfortunately, I only got as far as the towels down to absorb the juice, because Shelby had forgotten her lunch box, so I needed to run that to her. And so I grabbed "naughty" from time out, as he is saying "Mom, ugh....sad, ugh....no, ugh....head, ugh...hide, ugh...mom." These are the conversations he has with himself after he has been busted. So, we're back. We've been back for a while. I have managed to send out a new snack calendar to Shelby's kindergarten email list, and approve the school's SCC minutes and send them to the administration, and get lunch for Garrett and I...and now I have to finish up the clean up...UGH. OK, I am going to do it. I can do it. FUN FUN FUN.
** So, after a fun time at the pediatrician with Dalton (who got semi diagnosed with asthma and will now have a preventative to hopefully alleviate some of his symptoms that he gets when he is sick or the air is bad or he is playing sports) and picking up Sis from a play date, we came home to find Aunt Krissy here- yay! Only, not long afterwords Gavin called me downstairs with one of those calls where you know something bad has just happened, and I see Garrett, naked from the waist down, in his OTHER secret corner, where he had just taken off his diaper and pooped on the carpet. Oh happy days.