We were unable to secure a babysitter for therapy last night. Because the three lovely gals that watch the boys regularly are 19ish. And, you know, Valentine’s Day. So our friends who have boys the same age as ours were kind enough to do it. We were gone for under two hours. T uncharacteristically emptied his bladder on the floor outside their bathroom (we think he got so caught up in playing that he forgot he needed to go until it was way too late) and C had serious diarrhea. Good times when you watch our spawn.
After the appointment Z picked up take out for the group. Dinner was chaotic, we got the 5 kids fed before the 5 adults sat down. Thankfully there was plentiful alcohol. It was also a hell of a lot of fun to hang out with friends while our kids played with each other. The oldest of the 5 kids recently turned 4, the youngest was C. We had glimpses of what it will be like in a few years when they can really go off and entertain themselves while the grown ups get a bit of a break. I can’t fucking wait for that day.
We were having such a nice time talking that we got home very late. They boys made it to bed well over an hour later than usual. They were exhausted and T suddenly spiked a fever so bath time was pretty messy. We were trying to calm them down while soaping them up. T totally lost his shit and Z and I did not have a lot of patience with him or each other.
Suddenly I smelled this terrible smell. It was kind of vingar-y and filthy laundry like and just foul. I whipped my head around towards Z ready to bite his head off for having disgusting smelling feet. Before I opened my mouth I noticed he was still wearing his boots. I was momentarily confused. Then I looked down at my own feet. I was only wearing socks. The smell was so bad the fumes were almost visible, a putrid green film wafting up to the ceiling in the over warm and humid bathroom.
I started laughing. “It smells like gag worthy stinky feet in here. And I was totally going to yell at your for it.” Z pointedly looked at his shoe covered feet. “I know. It’s me.” Z, “Yup, Karen. It is you.”
My sick kid. He’s glowing because of the fever. Not because I’ve passed my nearly pigment-less skin to him…
For a second they were actually playing together like civilized humans. For a second. Then they attacked each other like wild animals/mortal enemies/…brothers.
Next generation in the shop with his hearing protection and his hammer. He is ready to work!