This is just a quick weekend update in case you’re wondering what happens here during my off-blog time.
Cael, singing to the tune of London Bridges:
Coconuts are falling down, falling down, falling down.
Coconuts are falling down, my fair wady.
Greg: That’s because they’re getting older and sagging.
Me: I’m sorry. What?
My eyes may or may not have turned red and had laser beams coming out of them.
Greg: That was funnier in my head than it was in implementation.
(Please don’t tell Greg I thought that was funny, too. It’ll ruin all the scowling I did.)
Aden’s bedroom smells like butt.
Or rotten cheese.
Or sweaty feet in sockless tennis shoes, rubbed in rotten cheese, and hanging out in a 5th grade classroom.
I can smell it when I’m in her room.
I can smell it from outside her room.
I can smell it from the grocery store two miles away.
OK, maybe not that last one, but, ew!
We cleaned Aden’s room.
Greg braved the underside of Aden’s bed.
There was no wedge of decaying cheese. Or rotten fruit. Or dead animals.
We washed all of Aden’s clothes.
We washed all of her bed linens.
(I hear some people wash bed linens every single week. Can you believe it?)
We finally broke down and washed the child herself.
We deodorized the room. Several times.
And now her room smells like…
Who wants to come over to my house?
It’ll be fun.
Falling coconuts and butt smell. Good times.