When Clean Gets Messy

Yesterday morning, I woke up 15 minutes earlier than normal. I saw this as a good sign, seeing as the morning school routine can go from smooth to crazy in a matter of nanoseconds.

I showered, got dressed, made the beds. The kids woke up in high spirits and got themselves ready in record time. I was feeling good.

"This is going so great," I thought to myself. "I should even have a few extra minutes to pick up the remaining toys for the cleaners coming today."

(Famous last words, no?)

I rounded the corner to the kids' bathroom -- and I saw Teyla squatting next to a vast puddle of slime on the carpet. Six bottles of kids' shampoo and body wash were next to her, in various states of dismemberment. Two were empty.

Upside? Everything smelled like coconut.

"Oh. Teyla. No." I moaned.

I gathered up the empty bottles and threw them in the trash. I gathered up the remorseful toddler (who had a stinky diaper, to add insult to injury) and deposited her firmly in the bathtub. I gathered up the half-full bottles, coated with strawberry and banana and coconut ooze, and tossed them under running water in the sink, where bubbles immediately began to foam into a miniature volcano of suds. I gathered what was left of my sanity and decided it was highly over-rated anyway.

I managed to scrape the top layer of goop off the carpet and then, at a total loss, I threw an extra beach towel over the crime scene and left (now a few minutes late) for school and MOPS.

This morning, a sweet young man from the carpet cleaners came and wiped Teyla's sins away. And lo, the carpet is clean and the pink stains are gone and the aroma of coconut still lingers in the air.

I wish all my mistakes smelled like sunscreen.