Ok, I know that I haven't posted consistently in what seems like forever. I need to get back on the ball and at least journal things like the event I had not 20 minutes ago. Oh, how I one day will look back on this and laugh....right now, I can't get past my throbbing headache.
So, I'm putting some final touches on the Christmas Newsletter. On one side of the page is a column which highlights some of the big events for us in 2008. I note that we purchased a house here in Texas. I wrote that Dallas started Kindergarten. I typed that Keegan mastered the toilet. And upon thinking of what I could note about Jason, I notice that the dog wants to go upstairs but is blocked by the baby gate. So I hop up from the couch and begin to climb the stairs to unlock the gate at the top.
As I follow behind the dog, I notice that I'm lucky enough to catch a whiff of the gas coming out of her back end..... no wait, THAT'S NOT THE DOG! By the time that I'm at the top of the stairs, I see Keegan standing there naked spreading a brown substance all over his legs with his index finger. In a loud, high pitch tone, I ask what he thinks he's doing.... to which he tells me, "I poop in my bedroom". "What do you mean, "you poop in your bedroom"...where are your clothes?" I then dash to the bathroom to see the toilet completely clean...no chance of an accidental toilet seat rub that caused this mess on my child. So I make my way to his bedroom only to find a fresh turd sitting square in the middle of his room. By now, the dog is sniffing it and going nuts. And I think, THIS CAN'T BE.... I JUST WROTE THAT YOU HAD MASTERED THE TOILET!!!!
I couldn't make this stuff up. I think I'm calling it a night and will join my snoring husband in bed. How he manages to miss these ironic episodes, I will never know.
