Well, today has been, thus far, quite enlightening. I swear, I only took my eyes off of the boy for 2 minutes. Suddenly I realized that it was deafeningly quiet in the house. Which, of course, means that the little shit was Up To Something. I walk into the laundry room to find him with my beloved bottle of Shout. The bottle had been full and was now pretty much empty. He had sprayed it all over the fridge in there. It was also oozing out of his mouth and onto his shirt (which I'm guessing is going to be SPARKLING clean the next time I wash it). So I assumed the 'Oh Shit!' position (which is, in case you don't have a 2 year old boy, mouth and eyes perfectly open, hand grasping for phone to call 9-1-1). 911 put me through to Poison Control who asked me to read the label to him. I did and he put me on hold to figure out what I needed to do with my idiot, detergent eating son (and in the mean time I demonstrated my multi-tasking skills by changing a poopie diaper that smell...
Like sex, but with a B.