So I'm putting everything in the freezer, thinking I am very together because I had cleaned all of the old hair and dried jelly out of the fridge this morning, when Bubba comes stumbling into the kitchen, covered in red goo.
WERE YOU STABBED?! DID YOU THROW UP?! BABY, COME TO MOMMY!!
He comes closer and I see that he is covered head to toe in used cherry tomato. With a sinking feeling, I walk past him into the playroom...
And it looks like a crime scene.
Baby Boy stole a carton of tomatoes out of a grocery bag, dumped it out on the rug, and proceeded to stomp on or squish every single tomato into the couch. And of course, he is standing there with a sh!t-eating grin on his face, loving every second.
The blood is pounding in my ears. I adopt my best Norman Bates voice (the one I take on when I am really, really about to lose it) and send him to timeout. Instead, he goes into the shoe closet, sits on the floor and dramatically fake snores while posing at himself in the mirror.
Note: tomatoes are sticky and disgusting but come out of carpet and couch fairly easily.
Obviously, I am all done for today.