Poop!

Literally.  Smeared all over the bathroom cabinets next to the toilet.  How?  He “stuck his hand in his butt and wiped it.”  Why?  Because he “felt like it.” 

After we supervised the clean-up of poop on the bathroom cabinets, we had him clean the urine off of the floor and sent him to bed.

In case you have forgotten… Which he apparently has… He’s EIGHT!

Scared…

Not sure where to start with this one, I guess I’ll start at the beginning….

A couple of weeks ago, The Boss Man had left our shed unlocked.  I knew Fast Boy had been in there and reminded my husband quite harshly about how much trouble could come from an unlocked shed.  I was right.  The Boss Man promptly locked the shed and kept it locked from then on, but what we didn’t know was that Fast Boy and Princess had hid their previous finds.

When Fast Boy entered our house yesterday afternoon I was immediately reminded of the chainsaw oil smell from a few weeks ago.  This was a little different.  This was Tiki Torch fuel.  And it covered the lower half of my son.  He had taken the container out of its hiding spot under the shed and punctured  a hole in it to open it when he couldn’t figure out the safety lid.  He said that he bit it open with his teeth.

He had poured the fuel on the neighbor’s grass and bushes. (Different neighbor from the water slide incident.)  What I also found at the scene of the crime was a lighter that he had stolen from the neighbors porch.  I shudder thinking about what could have happened if he had actually been able to light it.

I was at my computer working just like the last time.  It wasn’t more than 30 minutes.  I thought they were just in the back yard playing.  Just like the last time.  I try to reassure myself that it isn’t my fault, that I can’t be on top of them 24/7, but when stuff like this happens I am reminded that I really need to be. 

The Wrong Kind of Water Gun

My sense of humor is just not where it ought to be on this one.  Even though a good 36 hours has past.  I’m still shaking my head in disbelief. 

Picture the scene…  A fun day with friends swimming, sliding and playing with waterguns.  The playdate turns into a dinner invitation.  The dinner turns into a spontaneous sleep-over party.  Then it happens.

Fast Boy and Surfer Dude (his 4 year old friend) disappear into the bathroom to prepare for bed.  You can feel it coming, can’t you?  Surfer Dude shrieks and comes out of the bathroom crying.  Fast Boy peed on him! 

I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.  He does get distracted easily and all it would have taken is one word for my son to turn away from what he was doing and lose his aim.  However, I knew immediately upon questioning that this was not the case.  The look on Fast Boy’s face told the truth that it was intentional.  The fact that Surfer Dude’s pajamas were wet all the way up to his chest was proof of it. 

What was he thinking?  His answer: “I don’t know.  I just felt like it.”  He never gave me a better answer. 

It wasn’t until I sat down to write this post that I came up with my own answer.  Just like he had invented his own water slide a few weeks ago, Fast Boy had found his own water gun. 

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And simply because one of the internet marketers I work with coincidently sent me this link yesterday, I just had to add it here… Make Potty Training Fun Again.  (Maybe they should add in a “water gun” section?)

Attention Kmart Shoppers

We got a check from Gramma in the mail to help us buy school clothes and so each kid could buy a new toy.  I really dreaded the idea of taking them both shopping and put it off as long as I could.  However, when I had to wait several hours to have my SUV serviced, it was the perfect time.  Shopping in the mall with two kids sure beats trying to entertain them in a service station waiting room.

We had the courtesy shuttle drop us off.  It was still too early for the shops to be open so we headed to the Kmart at the other end.  I picked up a few necessities that I needed and then we headed over to the toy aisles.  I can still hear the “I want”s ringing in my ears!  We took a good look around at all the junk and I decided that we should keep looking through the store to see what else there was to choose from and then come back if we didn’t find anything else. 

Princess and I started looking at the CD players and child digital cameras in the electronics department.  Fast Boy went immediately to the Game Cube display and started playing the demo video games.  I knew then and there that we were headed for trouble.  (Self-defeating prophecy?)  See, I know that Fast Boy has a big problem detaching himself from video games.  I’ve seen it too many times before.  Which is why his Game Boy had to take a vacation and go stay with someone else for awhile.  Preparing myself and the store clerk for what was about to happen, I discussed my son’s issues with video games.  His school had actually recommended finding educational, skill-building games for his Game Boy so I inquired.  I was surprised to find out that they do exist, but not so surprised to find out that they didn’t have any in stock.

I used my very best parenting skills and patience, prompted Fast Boy to finish what he was doing because it was time to move along and waited.    After a few minutes of talking to the clerk, I prompted again.  I could see his tension increase.  I tried to negotiate.  Nothing.  So I warned the clerk to block her ears, told Fast Boy that Princess and I were moving on and that he needed to come with us.  The second I took one step, out came the scream!  I’m sure everyone on the other side of the mall heard it. 

He stopped playing the game and followed Princess and I through the store toward the checkout, screaming and crying loudly all the way that I was “mean” and “not fair” and that he hates me.  Then he decided that he wasn’t getting enough of a reaction and took off.   

Usually, he is within sight when he runs away.  I periodically see him peeking from around a corner to make sure I’m still there.  Not this time.  I waited at the checkout for what seemed like forever to see a glimpse of him.  Finally, the electronics clerk returned him to me.  He was quiet for a few minutes, but started yelling and crying again while the cashier was bagging my stuff. 

So much for all the clothes shopping and going back for a toy….

Fast Boy crouched in the mall doorway in fetal position until the shuttle returned to pick us up.

When we got back home, I had him call Gramma and explain to her what happened and why we didn’t get to purchase what she sent the money for.  His story was that I didn’t let him play the game and I made him cry.  He left out the rage and running away part.  Sometimes I wonder if he even remembers doing it. 

How to Make a Water Slide

For those of you who are here because you really want to know how to make a water slide, you’ve come to the wrong place.  Turn back now.  Do not try this at home.

Not that I want to jinx myself by saying this, but my son hasn’t gotten into any shenanigans lately.  So, I thought I’d share a story from a couple weeks ago.  It probably won’t be as much fun to read since I’ve calmed down since then, but I’m sure you’ll understand how I felt at the time.

My children have permission to use the swing set at the neighbor’s house whenever they want.  Our yard is just too small for one and they are never home over there any way.  I’ve told them both repeatedly that they have to ask my permission first, need to stay on or around the swing set, not go any where else, and be in sight if I happen to come outside looking for them. 

As usual, when I went to check on them, they were not where they were supposed to be.  I called.  No one answered.  I called again.  Still nothing.  “One!”, I shouted.  “Coming!”, I hear from around the neighbors house.  (Not bad, didn’t even have to get to two.)  I hear Princess yelling to Fast Boy that I am calling and that he needs to come too.  I eventually see them, but instead of coming home, they climb back on the swings.  I called them again.  As they approached, I explained that they have broken the rules and need to come home.  I then noticed that they didn’t have their shoes on and sent them back to get their shoes.  I went back inside and waited…

And waited…

Back outside I went to find that they were still on the swings.  I repeated that they had broken the rules and have to come home. ”Bring your shoes.”  I was beginning to feel frustrated and went back inside.

I was sitting at my desk trying to get back into my work when one of them came in the house.  I knew immediately that something was not right.  “What on Earth is that smell???  OMG!  What did he do this time?”  (Yes, I immediately blame my son.  Shame on me.)   I thought it was gasoline.  It had that type of smell.  I completely lost it!!

Fuming, I followed my wet little Princess back to the swing set to investigate.  Fast Boy was just as wet and smelly and had that I-know-I’m-in-big-trouble look on his face.  I found an open can of WD-40 and an almost empty gallon jug of…  wait for it…   chainsaw oil!

Both of my children, the slide and the ground were drenched in chainsaw oil! 

Then I got quiet.  (When I get quiet, it is a very bad thing.)  I felt unbelievably helpless.  I calmly had them return the containers to where they found them.  They had gotten them from the back of the neighbor’s patio.  I also found their water spout turned on full blast and had Fast Boy turn that off.  I marched them home, had them strip naked, drop their clothes in the middle of the kitchen floor, and put them both in the bath tub as I called the crisis line for the mental health professional we have been working with.  I was afraid I was going to snap and I didn’t know what to do with it all.

For the next five minutes, Princess and Fast Boy giggled in the tub.  They don’t bathe together any more, so they thought it was fun.  The more they smirked, the more my blood pressure went up.  I wouldn’t even try to wash them.  I thought it best if I didn’t even touch them at that point.  I called my husband and started to cry.

By the time the mental health worker showed up, the kids were clean and dressed and I was on the phone with the fire department inquiring on how to clean up WD-40 and chainsaw oil.  It was about that time that I connected the slide, the oil and the water spout.  We had been to a birthday party just a few days earlier where they played on an inflatable water slide.  My clever little darlings had tried to make their own water slide.

In case you’re wondering, WD-40 and chainsaw oil clean off of plastic slides with degreaser, and off of wood, marble tile and children with soap and water.   The smell takes a long time to go away.  After three wash cycles of hot water, I threw their clothes in the trash.  I went out for a few beers with a friend when my husband got home. 

The children had to tell the neighbors what they did and had to help Daddy clean up the swing set.  I asked the neighbors to give the children some lawn work to do in addition, but they never made a request.  In the meantime, they are not allowed to play at the neighbor’s house with the explanation that if they can’t respect someone else’s property, then they can’t use it.  I set no time limit.  I was hoping the neighbor’s would have some feedback, but we haven’t had any further conversation about it since it happened.  (Any advice?)