Sooooo, I'm guessing you either haven't gotten around to it yet, don't believe you are in error, or don't answer parenting requests.
I thought you would at least re-evaluate the situation. At the VERY least, give me a little break to recover my sanity.
Clearly you aren't taking the situation seriously since little kid just walked in off of the deck...marched over to me...pulled his fat little arm back...and threw...
It bounced off of my leg, before landing with a quiet thud on the floor in front of me. Big Kid, little kid and I all stood there in silence, trying to figure out exactly what just happened. Big Kid and I were momentarily stunned, while little kid looked on in curious fascination.
When my brain finally figured out what that slightly spongy, sticky thing that just rolled off of my shin was, I sure as hell did use your name in vain. I'm pretty sure it's excusable in a situation like this one.
THERE WAS DOG POOP ON MY LEG.
MY BABY THREW IT AT ME.
Oh my You, oh my You, oh my You.
I still want to claw at my skin, throw boiling water on myself and scream at the heavens.
Then, as you know, I threw little kid in the tub only to find myself ill prepared to get him out. So I raced across the house to get a towel, almost completely confident he wouldn't find a way to drown in a draining bath tub in such a short period of time, only to return to find him out of the tub, standing on a stool at the sink, surrounded by the contents of a bottle of Huggies Clean Team shampoo, which he has evidently been brushing his teeth with (using Big Kid's toothbrush, no less).
I was gone for less than a minute. I didn't even know he knew how to get out of the tub. I literally jogged across our family room.
What did I do to deserve this?
My only other thought is that he may be Satan spawn? It would be just like me to make a deal with the Devil and forget about it. If so, let me know so I can get something worked out with him at least.
Thanks again for your prompt attention to this matter!