Do you ever have a day you'd rather forget?
Where you could happily inhale a pizza, suck down a Coors, and commune with the remote?
Today is one of those days. Started well enough with our regular Sunday morning routine of breakfast, bathing and dressing Danny, gathering the laundry, and tending to all those pesky 'getting ready for the week ahead' chores.
So where did it all go wrong?
Well, it didn't as far as I knew. Everything was swimming along.
And that was the problem.
The first bubble popped before I had the opportunity to register that I'd actually seen a bubble. The second and third bubbles met a similar fate. Looking down at Danny sitting on his mat, a kaleidoscope of blocks surrounding him as he built his very own little alphabet pyramid, all seemed well.
Bubble number four did it. A honkin' huge thing that drifted past my head and landed on my shoulder, popping with enough force and liquid to wet the side of my face.
"What the?"
Danny was giggling now, the alphabet pyramid forgotten, he pulled himself along the side of the sofa, crab style, and pointed towards the basement. "Ubbles!"
"Ubbles?" Following he direction of his finger it wasn't hard to see where the bubbles where coming from. "Crap, the washing machine!"
Scooping up my kid in one arm I bolt for the basement door only to find my way blocked by and avalanche of bubbles.
"Oook, Ja'k, ubbles."
"Yep, bubbles, kiddo."
"All cean."
Uh-oh. "Clean? What's all clean?" Danny is virtually jumping in my arms, his little hands outstretched towards the basement stairs. "Hold on tight, Danny, we're going down."
This is ridiculous! The basement is awash with bubbles. Walls, roof, fixtures and furniture, nothing is spared. Danny safely sitting on my hip, I kick my way through the soapy soup towards the washing machine.
"Cean, cean!"
"Yep, daddy's got some cleaning to do alright." Fortunately the machine was off but there were bubbles spewing from the top, and perching Daniel on the side, one hand holding on at all times, I open up the lid.
"See!" Daniel points into the machine and squeals. "Des be cean now!"
Scooping out hand fulls of bubbles I hit something hard and plastic. "What?" Wrenching the object free of the sopping clothes I shake off the coating of bubbles and hold it up to the light.
"Ugboat! Cean!" Daniel reached up to tug the toy from my hands and holds it to his chest. "Ta, Ja'k!"
So his tugboat slipped into the wash, I could live with that, but where did all the bubbles come from. Like the true little mind reader he is, Daniel peers out at me from beneath his long bangs, giving me one of his "I didn't do it looks."
Oh, he so did!
Some quick archeological work of the washing load revealed his bottle of Torpedo brand bubble bath liquid… the lid was off.
"Wus help, Ja'k!"
End.