Tuesday, April 23, 2013
The Yoys: Flood Brothers
When we arrived home from our playground jaunt this afternoon, an entire ant colony had taken up residency on top of the Yoys' little table they use for meals. Coincidence, I think not.
I sent the boys upstairs to strip down for a bath, grabbed the ant spray, and went out back to spray around the patio door and windows.
They were upstairs for ~ 5 minutes. I could hear them in the bathroom, but I figured they were brushing their teeth or playing with their bath toys, sans bath water.
I walked upstairs and the bathroom door burst open. Out ran Big E soaking wet. Out ran Little E, laughing maniacally, and also soaking wet. His shoes were water logged.
I gulped. And then peaked into the bathroom.
The drain to Little E's sink was closed up and water was flowing freely from the faucet, into the full sink, onto the counter, down and into the cabinets, and finally settling in about an inch of water all throughout the bathroom.
Their rugs soaked up some of the water, but I was tasked with hurling towels on the floor to try and stop any real damage.
BIG E! WHY DID YOU DO THIS?
He looked at me, batted his eyelashes and deferred all blame to Little E.
LITTLE E DID IT.
So today, Big E learned about being an accomplice.
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WHAT LITTLE E WAS DOING?
Big E showed zero remorse, which just solidifies my theory that I'm raising a sociopath.
I WANTED TO SEE IT FLOOD. I LIKE FLOODS.
I was seething. Maybe Jewish preschool is overdoing it on the whole Noah's Ark story.
Big E still thought it was all a joke while I was on the floor sopping up super expensive City of Atlanta water.
GET TO A BOAT, QUICK!
I looked up at him. We locked eyes. My mind raced with all the punishments I would hand out. But I couldn't find the words. Instead, I just screamed. My windows are open, so I'm sure my neighbors heard my meltdown.
I finally dried everything and threw a sopping wet pile of towels and rugs into the washing machine.
I put Little E down for a nap after the bath, as I needed a few hours before I could look at him again.
Big E put himself to bed, because after refusing to go to bed at an appropriate time the past few evenings, he finally surrendered to his exhaustion.
And me? I'm just drinking a glass of wine. At 4. On a Tuesday.
Sleeping off his a**hole hangover.