I hate Mondays.
Not so much the day itself, but the evenings. Monday is the night that Not-So-Crafty Daddy goes to Bible study. It’s not that I have a problem with him growing in the Word of God and all that good stuff, but it totally stinks to be home with the kids all day, then all evening. Ugh!
This night was particularly pleasant. First of all, there must have been something wrong with my voice because not only did the boys not listen, but it was like they couldn’t even hear me. I mean not even an eye-roll or a dismissive nod.
Then, when I had sufficiently convinced them I was at the end of my rope, they decided to clean the kitchen. I told them thanks, but what I really needed was for them to go to bed. Of course, since they couldn’t hear me, they kept on going.
When they were finishing up, Big D wanted to refill the dish detergent bottle. I told him which soap to use and he remarked, “Oh, it’s the same stuff that you use in the dishwasher.”
Ummm, no.
It took a second for me to realize that he had just started the dishwasher and if he thinks that is the soap we use in the dishwasher…crap!
I opened the dishwasher to find soap everywhere. I shut it off while I figured out what to do and herded them into their beds.
When I came out, I found that the soap compartment hadn’t opened up yet. The bubbles must have been from some soap he spilled. I cleaned the soap compartment out; washing it with a wet cloth to get all the soap out, and turned the dishwasher back on. Luckily, we use the all natural stuff so it doesn’t foam too, too much. I kept checking it every ten minutes and it was fine.
Crisis averted.
I still hate Mondays, though.
