Not as boring as we'd hoped

JB let me sleep in this morning. As I rolled out of bed at 8am and got out of the shower, I lingeringly strolled downstairs in my comfy clothes. Our goal for this three day weekend? Absolutely nothing. Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Nothing on our schedule. No events on the calendar.

And we wanted to keep it that way. Just hang out around the house with the kiddos. Take down the Christmas stuff. Do some spring cleaning. Take naps. Play with the kids. In two words ... be bored. That was our goal.

Our first day's attempt at boredom wasn't nearly as boring as we would have hoped.

A scream. A dash. Blood. One windmill (pictured above) hurled across the room. One brother's head the recipient of the throw.

We tried to get Elijah to understand the ramifications of his powerful arm by making him watch Daddy clean out Isaac's head wound. But Elijah did not get it at all. He was totally unable to associate that his breaking our "no throwing toys" rule resulted in severe pain for Isaac.

JB informed me that the pain would get worse.

Why? Just clean it and leave it alone.

JB informed me he would have to put a staple in Isaac's head.

A staple? Couldn't you just use a butterfly bandaid or something else?


JB informed that we could. If we shaved Isaac's head in that spot.

Okay. Let's shave it. 


JB informed me that he had been joking. Shaving and a bandaid wouldn't be the recommended treatment in this case.

Are you sure? Maybe you should call Yamil. You always say that a doctor shouldn't be a doctor his own family? Let's ask Yamil what he would do.


JB informed me that Yamil would do exactly the same thing. "Now hold his arms down while I shoot this numbing agent into his head."

Oh my.

JB informed me to hold him tighter. "And hold his leg while I put in the staple."

Egads.


Once that was done and Isaac was nestled on the sofa with some ice cream and a movie as his reward for being so brave, I retreated to the sofa to feed a very neglected Abigail.

I scooped her up. She smelled funny. But a check into the left leg of her diaper revealed nothing to be concerned about.

That was because everything was seeping out of the right leg of that diaper.

It was all over Abigail's legs. It was all over both my hands. It was all over my pants. It was on the boppy.

It was ... everywhere.

I still hadn't cleaned up the blood in the upstairs bathroom and now the laundry room was littered with remnants of our little girl's poopy.

And it was only ten o'clock.

No boredom to be found in these parts folks.