I was cleaning my sons' room while conversing with a gentleman on the phone. I can never just talk to someone on the phone. No, I have to sweep the floor, clean the toilet, wash dishes, or fold laundry while chatting. I'm not sure why this is. I think that moms are just such resourceful multi-taskers that we simply don't know any other way. We can check homework, chop vegetables for dinner, feed the baby, and listen to our child tell us, in great detail, what they had for lunch at school. We can fold laundry, quiz our child on their spelling words, tie shoes, wipe runny noses, sew a button on a shirt, and drive to the store at the same time. See a man do that! Actually, you'll never see a man do that. They can't. Truly, it's not that they're stupid or lazy. They simply cannot do more than one thing at a time. It's physically impossible. Their minds are very "one track". I can't send my husband to the store to buy more than two items because he WILL forget at least one of those items. If I tell him, "Get a package of size 3 diapers, some bananas, and a gallon of milk," he'll inevitably come home with 3 packages of diapers in all different sizes, and a banana cream pie.
Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, I was on the phone talking to a gentleman, a businessman in the corporate world who was kind enough to call me between a luncheon with a client and a business meeting in order to give me some advice on my new found popularity. As I'm talking to him (and of course, picking up toys in the boys' room) I saw, to my horror, a piece of some sort of food-type object. I really wasn't sure what it was at first. I thought maybe it was a Tootsie Roll. Nah, it wasn't quite the right color. The thought occurred to me that perhaps it wasn't really food! Oh no, please don't let it be.... Whew! It wasn't anything that belonged in a toilet thankfully. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a chunk of a hotdog. A piece of a petrified hotdog. You could easily see that it had been in the boys' room since sometime around the Mesozoic era.
In the middle of my phone call with this important gentleman, I shriek, "It's a hotdog! I just found a petrified hotdog in my boys' room!" I'm pretty sure the man with whom I was conversing, thinks I have brain damage.
This is not the first time I've found food in the kids' rooms. In fact, earlier this week, while tucking my 3 year old in bed, I found half a hotdog bun under his bunk.
"Why do you have a nasty, old bun under your bed?"
"I don't know."
"Remember when I talked to you about bringing any kind of food into your room? You can't take food in your room. It belongs in the kitchen only."
"I know, you said if I put food in my room, ants and bugs and mice will come in my room."
"That's right! You do remember. So why did you put this bun in your room?"
"Because you said that ants and mice will come in my room!" he reiterates.
It hits me now that my little speech about visiting critters didn't deter him from bringing food into his room. No, quite the contrary, he was now sneaking food under his bed in an effort to attract critters! It simply amazes me how their minds work some times.
Anyway, I took a picture of this fossilized hotdog, however while I was at the school's open house this evening, my oldest son used my camera to make a stop motion film and apparently deleted the hotdog picture from my memory card. Oh well. I do have this picture though...
Remember the bar of soap with the teeth marks from last week? It underwent a metamorphosis of sorts. It will truly be a miracle if my kids ever get in the shower and just wash themselves instead of eating the soap, sculpting the soap, or just squishing the soap down the drain.
