One of Those Days

So I wrote a touching post about life with two, and now it's time for the flip side. There are "Most Days" and then there are "One of THOSE Days".

Today was one such day.

Will was pretty much opposed to doing anything, be it put on his clothes, go in the potty, eat his breakfast without flinging it everywhere, and. . . well, it just goes on and on. Everything was a battle.

Fortunately, I didn't have to push it today. It was cloudy and rainy, we had no plans, needed nothing urgently from the store, and had no appointments to make. So, after our fifth timeout within an hour of him getting out of bed, I decided today was going to be a stay home and do nothing kind of day. I still had to tussle with him to get anything accomplished, but at least I wasn't in public, or trying to wrangle Emma at the same time. It worked pretty well for the most part.

This afternoon, after his nap, we went downstairs and he asked for chocolate milk. In our house, chocolate milk is a sippy cup of milk with a "dot" of chocolate syrup poured in and then shaken (not stirred). For him, the best part of the chocolate milk experience is getting to help pour in the small dot and then do the shake, shake, shaking. I had just started to get the milk out of the fridge and the syrup from the pantry, when I heard Emma upstairs. I told Will to hold on a second while I went upstairs to get Emma to join us for snack time. I out the chocolate back on the fourth shelf of the pantry (strategically placed above a certain toddler's reach).

Of course, Emma had a dirty diaper that took me a few minutes to change, but I was headed back downstairs in less than five minutes. As I started down, my son started upstairs, his hands held up above his head in "I surrender" fashion and uncertainly calling, "Mommy. . ."

What I saw coming towards me from the bottom of the stairs made my heart stop beating. It looked as if Will was covered in dark blood. I gasped and started taking the steps two at a time. As I got closer, I realized that the dark coating wasn't red, but brown. My next thought? That he had smeared poo poo all over himself.

"Will! Is that poo poo?" I cried.

"No, Mommy," he responded earnestly. "It's chocolate. I made a mess."

I was actually relieved for a moment (as blood or poo was a far worse alternative in my mind). But as I rounded the corner and saw the scene before me, I reversed my relief.

It basically looked as if someone had slaughtered a chocolate cow. It was easy to follow his path of destruction. A chair had been pulled over to the pantry to retrieve the chocolate syrup.

From there, he took the syrup to the counter and tried to pour some in a cup. FAIL. The chocolate dripped down the counter and onto the floor. Next, he apparently decided that the coffee table would make it easier to pour since it was at his level, so there was a huge puddle of chocolate on the table. . . and next to it, another puddle the size of a salad plate on my beautiful (albeit secondhand) Potterybarn rug.

This is apparently when he panicked and realized he'd better clean up his act. He had then gone to the bathroom (but made sure to track through the chocolate puddle on his way thankyouverymuch) and gotten my good (cream colored) guest towels and brought them back to the scene of the crime where he daubed the towels through the puddles and swathed more chocolate around the carpet. That didn't work, so he figured a big wad of toilet paper might just do the trick. The wad sat, a mass clump of chocolate ooey gooey-ness. When that didn't work, he came to get me. That's when I found him, chocolate covered Will, coming up the stairs, leaving chocolate covered footprints every step of the way.

Oh, and the dog pranced through it, too. I counted 31 different spots greater than a baseball on my (very light tan colored) carpet. I didn't count the stains smaller than that. It was too depressing.

I was proud of myself. I stayed very calm. I took his soiled clothes off and wiped him down with some wipes. I told him that I was very disappointed in him and that he had made a naughty choice. I told him to go to his room until I was done cleaning up his mess. Shoulders sagging and starting to cry, he took himself up to his room and dutifully stayed there while I scrubbed furniture and carpets.

I went up to him after I was done cleaning and helped get him into new clothes. I told him that his punishment will be no chocolate milk for a week. And whenever he has asked for chocolate milk, I have reminded him that because of what he did, there is no more syrup and therefore, he cannot have chocolate milk.

What is most amazing about this whole story is how quickly he was able to make such a huge mess. Had I heard a story like this before I had children, I would have blamed the parent (why weren't they watching more carefully, why did they leave the pantry unlocked, etc.). Now that I am a mom, I know how very quickly these little ones work and also that there are just certain things you don't expect. He has never done anything even close to this before and I am still shocked by it.

Soap and water, six different types of carpet cleaners, vinegar, OxyClean, and a steam cleaner have failed to remove the stains thus far. A friend has recommended vodka. Apparently, your carpets might not be any cleaner, but you won't care.


I guess it's just one of those days.