Oh, my wounded couch.
So Mike brought Vivian over to my work yesterday after her nap, and we all went out to eat. She was vastly disappointed when we found out the mongolian grill is closed on Mondays, as I'd spent the several minutes it took us to park and walk there telling her about the bounty of vegetables she would get to eat: water chestnuts, carrots, broccoli, baby corn, tofu... and noodles! We ended up going to a teriyaki place down the street and I think she was disappointed by the vastly inferior quantity of vegetables. She's such an odd little thing.
Then I sent Mike to fetch the car while I took Vivian on a whirlwind tour of my office. She clung to my leg when Mitch talked to her, refused to say anything but "Yessss" to a few people, and chowed down half a bag of somebody's chocolate covered raisen. Then she started doing the Pee Dance and I dragged her to the bathroom, where she refused to perform for the 3rd time that hour.
So when Mike showed up I carried her out to the car and told him, "I'm certain she needs to poop soon."
So what happens? Mike takes her home, accepts "I don't want to poop" as an answer to "Do you need to go poop or should we just go watch Mr Rogers first?", and you can guess where this story is going, can't you? Because an hour or so later Mike called in a raging panic asking how to get poop off of microfiber (fortunately he already knows how to scrub down the child and her clothing) and I spent half the rest of the night trying to scrub the end of a 5-foot-long microfiber covered couch cushion in the bathtub.
At least I had a really good excuse for skipping the UPA chapter formation meeting. I didn't really want to battle rush hour traffic just to spend 3 hours of my evening in a meeting anyhow. Even better, there's no way to end up bogged down by offices or committees if you don't show up. Right?
Then I sent Mike to fetch the car while I took Vivian on a whirlwind tour of my office. She clung to my leg when Mitch talked to her, refused to say anything but "Yessss" to a few people, and chowed down half a bag of somebody's chocolate covered raisen. Then she started doing the Pee Dance and I dragged her to the bathroom, where she refused to perform for the 3rd time that hour.
So when Mike showed up I carried her out to the car and told him, "I'm certain she needs to poop soon."
So what happens? Mike takes her home, accepts "I don't want to poop" as an answer to "Do you need to go poop or should we just go watch Mr Rogers first?", and you can guess where this story is going, can't you? Because an hour or so later Mike called in a raging panic asking how to get poop off of microfiber (fortunately he already knows how to scrub down the child and her clothing) and I spent half the rest of the night trying to scrub the end of a 5-foot-long microfiber covered couch cushion in the bathtub.
At least I had a really good excuse for skipping the UPA chapter formation meeting. I didn't really want to battle rush hour traffic just to spend 3 hours of my evening in a meeting anyhow. Even better, there's no way to end up bogged down by offices or committees if you don't show up. Right?