My husband had the boys almost all weekend so that I could go do something fun. Very fun. I received a call on Saturday late afternoon that went a little like this:
Hello? Is everything OK?
Oh yes, I just have a question.
Sure, what is up?
Rhett (2) just went to the bathroom by himself and he made me leave the bathroom and shut the door.
Ya, he does that to me too.
When I returned to the bathroom he had pooped and peed.
And he was sitting on the toilet all bent over with his head between his legs.
And then he said this, “I dropped my B (binky) down theeeeerrreeee.”
*trying not to laugh hysterically* So, did you flush the binky?
No, I fished it out and put it in a plastic bag.
But…I am not sure what to do with it now.
You could wash it or put it in the dishwasher…
Yuck. I don’t think I want to know what you are going to do with it.
Don’t worry I will take care of it when I get home.
And that is why when I returned home a few hours later I was presented with a Ziploc bag of contaminated pacifier held gingerly with two fingers of the outstretched hand of my husband.
Please watch for episode II airing soon…