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As if things could really get worse

I do love summertime sleeping in. It’s a beautiful thing. Thankfully my children love sleeping almost as much as I do, so there’s some gooood sleeping going on at my house.

Except this morning. For some unknown reason, Nathan decided to arise at the wee hour of 6:45 a.m. Even on a school day, that is way too early for me. He said something about wanting some breakfast, to which I groggily replied that it was too early.

“But the sun is up. It’s day.”

“It’s too early in the day. Go back to bed.”

He left the room, and I rolled over, knowing that there was no way I would be able to go back to sleep. I kept one sleepy ear open to the sounds of restricted cabinets being opened and loud crashes, ready to jump up at the first sound of mischief. Or at least ready to yell really loudly.

Next thing I know, I hear Griffin laughing hysterically. I roll out of bed and walk into the kitchen, and I see my precious son, butt-naked, and covered in…ummmm…fecal material.

What in the world?!?

This is not how I need this day to begin.

While I’m yelling at him to get his naked hiney in the shower, I notice a drip. A very wet drip. Coming down from the ceiling and soaking the carpet. The carpet we just paid an obscene amount of money to be dried and disinfected after the last soaking. Michael is already pulling up the carpet and mopping up the mess, so I grab a mop and join him.

“What time is your first case?” I ask, because he told me before we went to bed last night that he had eight surgeries this morning.

“Noon.” OK – that’s odd. Usually when he has eight surgical cases, they start at the crack of dawn. Guess I won’t be seeing him ‘til bedtime tonight. So we keep mopping and cleaning up the very wet carpet. Wonder how much this will cost us?

Once the water is up, we have to start painting in order to cover up the drip. I’m thinking, Oh, crap. Now we’re going to have to paint the entire room.

But, for the record, I NEVER said what next? out loud.

“Mom. Mom. Mama? Mom!”

Huh?

“Look what I did!”

I open my eyes and peek out from under my eye mask and see Griffin, my 7 year old tenderheart, and this:


The note said, “I am thankful for all you do for me, and I wanted you to feel like me, so I made you breakfast all by myself!”

Now that is a much better start to the day.

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2 thoughts on “As if things could really get worse

  1. After we paid a ton of money to have our carpet dried out, the second time (a week later) we just had it replaced. And the cost was similar. Sad.

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