Carson and Brad went out riding 4 wheelers after a good hard rain last weekend. As I'm bathing Selah, I "smell" something behind me. As I turn around I here Brad holler thru the house, "hey Jenn--Carson needs a bath." And now that I'm fully turned around, Carson's standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Keep in mind that "our mud" isn't just mud--it's a delicate mixture of cow dung and no telling what other assortment of obscurities. SOOO, being the flexible, illogical mother I am, I calmly told him to not move as I went to grab the camera. I then proceeded to finish up Selah in the tub, got her out, put Carson in her dirty water--fully clothed (I mean, what was my other logical option?), and proceeded to get him clean, thankful that I didn't take the time to clean the bathroom just a few days earlier.
Selah's incident occurred today as we're getting ready to walk out the door to join some friends for a swim date. I told the kids to go get any toys from our pool that they wanted to take with them. As I'm picking up the beach bag and my purse to walk out the door, I hear hellacious screaming coming from outside. I literally say out loud (for the devil to hear me), "you've GOT to be kidding me" as I see Brad rushing to the front door with Selah in his arms. I immediately begin to think, "where's the Nintendo DS and the insurance card." Brad begins to tell me about how Selah went to swing on her belly on the swing, and as many times as we've warned her against it, stubbornness finally met its match against the hard ground--face first. Wonder if she has a dress the right shade of red for Sunday church?
