lego incident.) While there, Cookie proceeds to dump an entire bottle of 409 out on the floor of the Valentine aisle. I nearly slip and break my head open while leaving the scene of the crime to report that "someone" has spilled "something" slippery all over the Valentine aisle to the first red-vested employee in sight. Meanwhile, Cookie reeks of 409 and I'm sure they guy instantly knew I was the "someone" in question. Mortifying.
After that exhausting excursion, I wrestle them out of the car, through all of the diversions in the garage (scooters, trikes, balls - it's WAY too cold for this mama) and into the house. And finally, the long awaited much anticipated time of the day has arrived. Cookie's nap time. Once again, I pat myself on the back for making it to two p.m. with two children accounted for and eight limbs intact. First I settle John on his computer to nap, bathe and play with his new virtual dragon (I credit Honey with the idea and Daddy-O for financing it.) Then, I close the blinds in the nursery, put a fresh diaper on Cookie, engage his crib side aquarium and ensure he has both lambies, both black cats, his pillow, blanket, paci and three books. I kiss him on his sweet, hot forehead and bid him goodnight. At last.
And this is where my average day goes haywire. Just as I lie my weary, sinus infected head on my freshly laundered pillow case I hear running down the hall. Curious because John knows better than to raise such a racket during Cookie's nap time. And what to my wondering eyes does appear at my bedside? COOKIE. No, you did NOT just climb out of your crib.
Oh, but he did.
After a few more attempts, I threw in the towel, wishing that I weren't drugged on Claritin and could partake in a glass of wine. Instead, I muddled through the last hours of the day, hoping that this was some sort of a fluke and that he'll quickly forget his newest trick.
There is not a day in recent memory when I was so very pleased to see reinforcements walk through the door!