This is how I awoke this morning:
"Mom? Could you come in my room because there's pee in my room."
Stretch. Roll. Blink. Squint. "Uh, what?"
"There's pee in my room."
I will pause here to say that this is not a particularly strange scenario. I am the mother of a three-and-a-half year old, fully potty trained boy. But accidents do happen, and I am not shocked by them.
"Ok, just a minute. Did you pee in your pjs?"
(and here is where we diverge to ... bizarre-land)
"No, I tried to pee in the laundry chute."
Confused, stunned silence.
"You ... PEED in the LAUNDRY CHUTE?"
"Yes. I just tried to pee in the laundry chute but there's pee in my room."
(Let me interject again, dear reader, to say that the laundry chute opening is located INSIDE a closet, under a hinged lid which is, er, much taller than a toilet seat; and consequently quite a BIT higher than Mister Peepers.)
My brain has, as of yet, not been able to register the crime scene that was my son's room (the locale of said closeted laundry chute). Suffice it to say that although he is working on his aim ... I have quite a bit of clean up work ahead of me this lovely morning.
Say it with me now: "The Joys of Motherhood"
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I had intended on making my inaugural blog post something of weight, substance, import. But no, it turns out, this is how I roll, and I shall embrace it. Welcome to No Sugar.
