when crazy meets crazy

Yes, they are both my sons. They are both insane, but in different ways. Ignatz is alala-crazy. The Sniglet is DrBob-crazy. But they both like yogurt!

So the Sniglet helped himself to some raspberry yogurt, but, preoccupied with homework that was inexplicably failing to do itself, he forgot to screw the lid on the yogurt jar. He just set the lid on the jar and went back to screaming at his homework. You see where this is going?

No. You don’t. Because instead of trying to pick the jar up by its lid, and having the jar-part rise briefly before thunking back down (which is what I do when DrBob does the Evil Lid Trick), Ignatz gave the yogurt an almighty SHAKE! Apparently he always does this. Apparently without holding the jar by its top and bottom, which is how I shake things. And then, festooned with yogurt, he clomped up the stairs to the living-room because that was a better location for shouting the news up to my office. Trail of pink sludge.

So. Hands and knees, paper towels, fragrant slimy work, sticky floor. I got to mop the kitchen. Then I got to rinse the yogurt out of his clothes using the tap at the front of the house (oh, did I mention that our beautiful weather finally broke, so today was rainy mucky windy COLD? Nothing like messing with cold water outdoors in such weather. At night.), and they are waiting for the washer to be free.

Oh! Because did I mention we got a new washer today? Our old washer beat itself to death, and we waited nearly a week for repairguy, and then two whole days for the washer, and today it came and it is so pretty! And also so busy! How many loads of laundry can one household generate? Let’s see (autumn = cooler weather + lots of leaves to jump in + quite a lot of mud) + one athletic husband + two athletic sons + one trip to Rome + one cat with unlimited access to the great outdoors and a penchant for leaving muddy little pawprints on everything = Egad.

And now there’s yogurt.

Song du jour of the day: I Need Some Sleep, by the Eels.

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One response to “when crazy meets crazy

  • amy

    yuck, alala. just…yuck.

    When we moved, we had a week between closings (because of the Evil Awful Contractor who kept switching the dates) so we had to stay at a hotel. Vaughan was barely 2 and drinking “sippy yogurt”–that drinkable yogurt stuff–right from the container, through a straw, when he managed to spill it all down his front. So I know the routine of soaking the yogurt-saturated clothes and then waiting for washing machine access. (At least we didn’t have to worry so much about the rug.) Also? The smell of raspberry makes me want to vomit. My kids like raspberry yogurt, too. I really, really hate the smell…

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