The other day I found Gabe up on a step stool that I had been using in our closet, riffling through my shirts. I told him to stop, because I didn't want him to pull them off the hangars, as he has been known to do. He turned and told me matter-of-factly, "I'm just looking through your shirts and checking for turds, but I didn't find any. Next I'm going to look through your skirts and check to make sure they don't have any turds, too."
Oh.
Well, in that case...
Glad to know we now have a turd monitor in residence.
Speaking of turds...the boys have picked up some stomach something-or-other that entails diarrhea. LOTS of it. I've had to change Israel about 5 times a day for the past two days. Gabe went streaking to the bathroom yesterday and informed Tim that he "almost didn't make it." Today I found evidence on the deck that he in fact had NOT made it. Sigh. Today while I was at the library he didn't "make it" again, and Tim was left to clean up the bedroom floor, the bathroom floor, and the toilet. Man, was I ever bummed that I was gone for that fun job. I just know how to pick the right times to leave, it would appear. (Heh heh heh heh. :) :) )
In other happenings, for two days in a row, we have almost taken Israel to the Emergency Room. Yesterday he pinched his right forefinger in the pantry closet door that was swing backwards. It left a big dent and he was very fussy/crying for about 45 minutes afterwards, which is not normal for him. It was swollen somewhat, but he could bend it, but he seemed to favor that hand. I called the doctor's office, and while I was waiting for them to call back, I distracted him with Sesame Street, and gave him some Tylenol, and from then on he was fine.
Today (also while I was gone.. :)) he was walking along in our bedroom and randomly fell down and whacked the ridge above his eye on the knob on our armoire. It was a little swollen and left a gash and Tim was worried he cracked his skull. But the chocolate milk shake I had brought home from Dairy Queen did wonders.
Anywho. So basically, it's Hurt-Yourself-Days here in Poopville.
7 comments:
And this is just another reason why I love you. I was laughing so hard while reading this entry. I love how Gabes little mind works...of course you need to check for turds left in one's clothing. I wish I could be in poopville right now :>)
I laughed so much when I read this. You have a gift. :) Sorry about the diarrea, though...nasty stuff.
Well, sorry about all the messes. . . but it sounds like you sure know when to leave the house :). Jan
Too funny....I love your storytelling, Carrie. Although we did have a poop incident of a young Picasso using it for finger paint on the wall, as far as I know we never had a closet turd mnitor. I think you should save all these posts and give them to the boys' wives someday.
Oh, poor Carrie! It sounds like you have had a rough few days too! I hope the boys feel better soon, and I REALLY hope that Gabe doesn't find any turds in your closet. :)
Reading your post was my reward for getting a few minutes of typing done. And I have to say I was rewarded. ha ha!
At least Gabe knows to run to the toilet for his business....we still have Poopville at our house every day (but no turds in the closet.)
That is just too cute! I read it to Kevin. I love looking at all your pregnancy pictures.. and just realized that I've missed you!
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