Last night, I was moving laundry from the washer into the dryer. Which means that although my kids were with me, they were not the sole focus of my attention for THREEFRIGGINSECONDS.
They were about two feet away from me, which evidently is close enough to lull me into a false sense of security, but NOT close enough to prevent mayhem.
See, you walk through my pantry to get to the mudroom where the washer and dryer are.
I was in the mudroom. The kids were in the pantry.
Not a major cause for concern, Bennett loves to putter in the pantry. When he partially shut the door between us, I thought nothing of it. I could still clearly see his little blue jammie feet under the door, which meant he wasn't climbing the shelves.
In my mind, that was the biggest risk: him climbing up and falling off.
I was wrong.
A few seconds later, I heard the pitter patter of little feet dancing. Again, I thought nothing of it.
It wasn't until I heard his muttered proclamation over MY mess that I suddenly got curious.
When I peeked around the door, this is what I saw.
The little bast... er, I mean BEAST had opened up a new carton of almond milk and was gleefully dancing in the growing puddle.
And as I frantically scrambled to soak up the mess before it spread under the pantry shelves, he commenced to dancing in the mess again, splattering it all over me and the food on the lower shelves.
Friggin. Awesome.
He must have seen something scary in my eyes, because he took off running through my first floor, soggy little jammie feet leaving soggy little sticky almond milk footprints all over the place.
Even. More. Friggin. Awesome.
I finally wrangled him, stripped off the sticky jammies, mopped up the mess, and sat back with an exasperated sigh... just in time for Sterling to helpfully point out "Ben Ben makes messes, you need to watch him better".
Grrrrrrrr, thanks kid. Thanks a whole hell of a lot. Next time, rather than watching while he makes said messes, you might want to stop him. Or at least let me know what's up.
Just a thought.
