Last night, we spent Thanksgiving at my good friend’s house. Dinner was lovely, the company was lovely, and not having to do the cooking and cleaning afterwards was also lovely. Once things were cleared away, all the kids started running around screaming, yelling, and getting into (and out of) things, while the adults either played Monopoly or caught up on some must-see TV.
As I sat there relaxing, the hackles on my neck started raising, which was weird because my friend’s three daughters always have my baby in check. Concerned, I looked over in the general direction of where my boy was, and saw Bad News happening in real time: he was shaking his opened powdered formula container like a champagne bottle at the World Series.
Here’s a screen grab of a video I took at the party earlier today. Awww, how innocent he looks…
Embarrassed that my baby made it snow in my friend’s home, I cleaned up the mess with her help. Luckily, we were able to enjoy the rest of our evening incident free. When we got home, however, I saw the real damage of the Bad News: my boy also spilled the powder inside the diaper bag, and all over my beloved purse and Blackberry.
Interesting Fact #1: Did you know that powdered formula is sticky, even when dry? And even when a brush or towel passes over it (or you turn blue from trying to blow it off), it refuses to budge?
Interesting Fact #2: Did you know that even though you may think you are making your life easier by carrying your purse and phone in the same bag as your baby’s powdered formula, that same canvas bag also doubles as a Death Trap for said items?
It’s midnight as I write this, and I’m still trying to get bits of formula out of the crevices of my purse and phone. It’s worse than sand! But at least sand, when dry, will fall off. This stuff is dry and sticking to everything. I’m so afraid of my purse getting ruined. Don’t even get me started on my phone.
And this is why I can’t have nice things. Because even when I vow to take care of my things, there is a little boy who lives in my house that doesn’t recognize vows. Or rules. Or order.
So, there are only three ways I can protect the nice things we have from being ruined:
- Lock them up in a hermetically sealed vault, never to see the light of day – that is, until Monkey turns thirty
- Lock Monkey up in a hermetically sealed vault, never to see the light of day – that is, until Monkey turns thirty
- Do not have nice things until Monkey turns thirty
I. Want. To. Cry.