So what happened?
Here's the shortened version:
Monkey woke up at some insane hour of the morning. I honestly don't remember what time it was (before 5) because I was trying so hard to pretend that I was still asleep, and only dream that I had been woken up. He's sick, though, so I couldn't be too upset about it.
He utterly refuses to eat anything all morning, except for a few bites of a banana. I don't blame him, because I wouldn't want to eat if it would just come back up two minutes later. What's the point, right? Well he finally decides that he is hungry...for Doritos! He will not eat anything but Doritos. After a 10 min. tantrum I finally give in because I figure Doritos in his stomach is better than nothing. Three minutes later I've got previously eaten Doritos clinging to my toes.
This is in addition to the curdled milk that was lovingly regurgitated directly into my hair the same morning.
...and the sprite/chicken noodle mix that missed the bucket and landed spot-on, down my chest.
So far, it's a double-shower+foot-scrub morning.
FF a couple hours: Monkey manages to set his sippy cup upside-down on a power strip and walk away. I didn't notice it until a while later; a lot of juice had leaked out. Luckily nothing happened...but it scared me half to death, and Money and I had a great discussion about appropriate places to abandon sippy cups.
While I cleaned that mess up, he took the opportunity to grab a bottle of lotion and empty its contents into his hair, smearing it around with his hands and then touching everything in the house.
But in truth, all of this was "do-able." I took everything with a grain of salt because I know it can't be helped. Things like this happen...but here's the icing on the cake...
I sit down in another room to read a book, having every reason to believe that Monkey is sound asleep. Imagine my shock when I later walk into the living room to find a dozen eggs (12!) smashed to pieces on the carpet, couch and piano bench. There is Monkey, with a huge grin on his face, sitting next to the empty egg carton with a spatula in his hands, saying: "I cook eggs!"
I was in such shock that I didn't know what to do first: to put him on time-out, to get angry, to shower him, to clean the mess, or to laugh because it was so completely unbelievable! I'm laughing as I write this, because looking back (hours after the shock has worn off and my anger is gone) it is the funniest thing, and I should have seen it coming with all the times he has begged me to let him "cook eggs." He's facinated by them.
Anyhow, all is well and over. The day has come and gone, and my sanity is still in check. Thank goodness.
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