Sometimes, even cute isn't enough

(I apologize for all the posts about bodily functions, but really, that seems to be Andrew's theme for the last couple of days).

As if deciding that yesterday's finger-down-the-throat weren't enough drama for the day, a couple hours after that incident, Andrew decided to one-up himself. Once more, he disappeared into the bathroom to take care of business. When I went to check on him, he told me he wasn't done and to "go away, mommy." So I did. A few minutes later, he appeared proudly in the room beside me, sans pants and underwear, and scampered off in the direction of his chest-of-drawers, apparently in search of new pants. Only then did I realize that he had left the bathroom without wiping (or being wiped). Horrified, I ushered him hurriedly back into the bathroom. There, an even greater horror met my eyes. Andrew needed new pants, apparently, because the old ones had poop on them. So did the toilet seat. So did his step-stool. So did the floor--precise little brown footprints across the linoleum. Out came the toilet paper, the clorox wipes, and clean pants. Andrew's just lucky that I was already late leaving for school--as it was, I left him sitting in time out, but that's mild to the revenge I might have wrecked had I stayed home with him . . .

And of course today he managed to pee all over his Bubby's floor (don't worry Bubby! Dan cleaned it up!) and puke all over our bed at bedtime. (Not on purpose this time, but from drinking his milk too fast). Which reminds me, I better check the laundry . . .