It's been a rough week! Last night, I was walking on the treadmill, watching So You Think You Can Dance, when T stepped out to take the dog for a walk.
When I finished up and started to head downstairs, I could hear the boys chattering. I sighed and went to break up the party. As I expected, Q had climbed into R's crib. He does this a lot lately for some reason and keeps both of them awake. But there was a lot more going on than just that.
The crib sheet was yanked off the bed, the letters from R's name on the wall were pulled down, as was a picture.
And there was blood all over the inside of the crib. I felt a momentary sense of panic as I scanned their bodies looking for horrible injuries. I finally found a tiny cut on one of Q's toes that he said he got when he climbed into the crib (then maybe you shouldn't do that!). That little cut bled like crazy. Q was surprisingly unfazed by the whole debacle. I carried him into the bathroom and stuck his feet in the sink. I wiped down the crib and both boys, replaced the sheet, rehung the letters and picture, and ushered both kids back into their beds.
That's when the oblivious T returned from his walk.
Too many scares for me this week.
And this morning, much more harmless but still tiring. Q found T's hi-lighter, drew on his brother's face and his own, and let the dog chew the cap.
It's always something isn't it? Right now, my main goal is just keeping them alive!
--MM
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