May 3, 2007 by Marj Hatzell
Last night, my husband (who will now on be referred to as “the genius”) came home from work way too late and grumpy. He already had a headache when he walked in the door at EIGHT O’CLOCK in the evening. If you are good at math, you will realize that since he leaves at seven in the morning he had been gone for thirteen hours. If you aren’t good at math, he was gone for thirteen hours.
The first thing he did once he greeted us (with kisses, no less, because that is supposed to make being gone for THIRTEEN HOURS all better!) was to head to the LOCKED medicine cabinet in the LOCKED bathroom and get himself a certain brand of ibuprofen that begins with an A and ends in DVIL. That comes in a bottle with a CHILD SAFETY CAP on it. (see where this is going?)
Darling (I mean Idiot. Nope. that didn’t come out right. How about GENIUS again?) then did what any good father would do. He took out three DAVIL (see what I did there?) and put them on the kitchen table. While I had my back turned to the counter nuking his yummy dinner (that was ready two hours earlier. I actually went through the trouble of cooking something) he proceeded to WALK AWAY from the kitchen table and put the bottle of VALID (Aren’t I witty?) back into the medicine cabinet. Except the lid wasn’t on. And the cabinet was not relocked. And (this is funny) somehow the door to the bathroom was not relocked. With our non-verbal-four-year-old-with-Autism was in the kitchen. I wonder what could possibly happen next…hmmm…
I turned to put his plate on the table as he commented that he did not see the pills on the table. They went POOF or something. Magically disappeared. I wonder what happened…hmmm…
It was then that I heard Bugaboo RUNNING upstairs. I heard him go into his room, slam the door and get into his closet. He knew what he was doing was not approved by the management. As soon as I heard him (and we noticed the missing pills) we both ran to his room and threw it open to find him with the ENTIRE BOTTLE OF PILLS dumped on the floor. Because, you know, the lid wasn’t on right. And the bathroom door was left wide open. And the cabinet was not locked.
The good news? We caught him just as he was opening the bottle and dumping it. We know for a fact he did not consume any pills from that bottle. That is when we put two-and-two together (we are a little slow sometimes) and ran downstairs to look for the pills from the table. The bad news? There weren’t any. We DID find some chewed up bits of three pills, all slimy on the floor. I shot
Darling Man-I’d-like-to-slap-in-the-head-and-scream-WHAT-ARE-YOU-THINKING the hairy eyeball and picked up the phone to call poison control. Again. For the nine-millionth time in five months. Or ninth, whatever.
Now, once I was calmed down and reassured by poison control that 600 mgs of LAVID (teehee!) was not toxic to my thirty-six pound child, I decided that we needed more chaos in our lives and made the entire family go for a walk. We grabbed the wagon and headed out. Our usual route is down to the end of our street, going up two blocks, turning back up to the middle of town towards our house and then ending up at the street above our house, then heading back down our street again. Confused? We walked in a rectangle. In the last leg of our walk there is a house that is the same style as ours (20 years old and no charm) but a mirror image. Bugaboo is enamored with this house. Whenever we take walks with Bugaboo’s TSS Bugaboo tries to GO INTO THIS HOUSE. He loves it.
Darling Flipping Moron and I were knee-deep in conversation about siding and roofing choices, Bug Boy was marching ahead pointing things out and chatting (think Rain Man) and Bugaboo was in the wagon. Strapped in. Uh huh, that is where he was. Until we got to the corner and happened to be talking about Bugaboo and I was going to show him Bugaboo’s healing splinter scar and I motioned to Bugaboo and…he wasn’t there. It was almost nine pm and dark. I could not see him anywhere. He could have been gone for an entire block for all we know. Then I remembered the other house…
Sure enough, about fifty feet away Bugaboo was trying every door to this house. I know the owners were home and thank goodness did not hear him. It would have been a wee bit embarrassing. I laughed hysterically, for some reason
Darling Mr. Boring was not amused.
Is it any surprise that my day ended with the kids locked in their rooms and a glass of Sangria in my hand?