Well, we're back to poop again.
I guess it's inevitable.
I mean, I have a four year old boy.
And I have an illness that causes me to...ummmmm....poop.....a lot.
So I guess it's a time/space/poop continuum on some level.
I started feeling better, and woke up one morning and announced to Billy Two Swords that we were going to demolish our bedroom, and finally complete our Extreme Makeover-Fallon Edition.
He thought I was insane.
He did, however, acquiesce.
Our bed is now in the den.
Our den furniture is now in the garage.
Our bedroom looks like Nagasaki.
Since I'm temporarily losing a few closets, there are bags and boxes and scrapbook crap everywhere.
The kids are totally freaked out.
Clearly they have recovered from our last major renovation, three years ago, and don't quite know how to adapt to a few weeks of renovation-reality/chaos.
So I came up with this brilliant idea this evening. I have those on occasion.
I told the kids they could lay in our bed, in the den, and watch "Hotel for Dogs" until bedtime.
Movies are usually reserved for the weekend. But....the Rolandoh Magic are about to sweep King James.....and Billy Two Swords has earned a quiet evening in front of the big screen. (Quiet, except for the profane screaming he will engage in with the referees for the next four hours).
So the kids are in the bed, and I put the movie in.
And then I went to the bathroom.
And closed the door.
And here it comes.
I know exactly what he wants.
I am ignoring him.
Still ignoring him.
Finally, I scream back at the top of my lungs, through the closed bathroom door:
"I am going to the BATHROOM!"
"Reilly is almost seven years old and is perfectly capable of pushing PLAY!"
And the Captain responded:
"She says she's comfy, and doesn't want to get up."