Wish You Were Here…Instead of Me

I cleaned the bathroom earlier today. Things just got weird from that point on.

A few minutes after walking out of that bathroom, a child walked in and had a case of explosive diarrhea. I cleaned the bathroom again.

As if that wasn’t enough, I decided to tempt fate and vacuum the carpet. I was nearly done when the vacuum sucked up a metal object started smoking. As I bent down to examine the damage, another child ran through the house, his hands full of confetti.

“What are you doing?” I hollered.

“An art project,” he said.

“You just made the carpet a part of your art project. Keep it at the table!”

“Mom, can I have your sticker?”

“What sticker?”

“The one on your back. I need it for my art project.”

“There’s a sticker on my back?”

“Yes. I put it there this morning before swim lessons.”

I pulled the 2 inch foam letter E off my back and asked, “You mean to tell me that I’ve been walking around all day with this on my shirt?!?”

“Sorry, Mom. I was just playing.”

“I don’t appreciate being made to look like a fool” I said.

I huffed and puffed then quickly turned to continue examining the vacuum when three pieces of confetti fell out of my hair and landed on my foot.

I’m beginning to feel like a cheap party favor.