Why are kids so gross?
They are super cute which sort of offsets it, but I mean… really. Why are they so gross?
My dad was watching the kids downstairs at my parents house this morning while I was upstairs making beds and packing up. When I went up he was washing dishes and the kids were all playing separately. Quietly. Nicely.
I had only been upstairs for a few minutes when I heard him call up:
Dad: “Uhhh, H? You might want to come downstairs…”
Me, not hearing any bedlam or crying: “Why? What’s up?”
Dad: “P is, uh… his mittens are brown. He’s reaching behind and his mittens are coming back brown.” (Then he cackles and continues washing dishes.)
I raced downstairs to find P standing in the entrance way with his blue mittens on. Except they weren’t all blue anymore. They were brown.
And in case there is any doubt about what was happening, there was no chocolate involved. Oh, how I wish it had been chocolate. There are certain times as a parent when I need to go into “the dark place” to get through different episodes with my children. When they puke, for example, or when… they turn blue mittens brown.
It resulted in a hose down and full body outfit change, and my wee man went into the van without his mittens. I wanted to burn the mittens, but as they are the first pair he has ever let me put on him, I had to bag and carry to wash 80 times at home.
Really though, I guess I’m grateful that the mittens were on. It could have been worse.
And thankfully, the brown mittens are blue again and will hopefully stay that way.