This morning I texted Shannon while she was at the doctor. These are the actual texts:
-Our children are retarded. I'm changing the bike tire, patching it and putting sealant in it. Meanwhile…
-Sis takes off her poopy diaper, Tanner steps in it, and she squats and pees on the kitchen floor.
I walked in the house from working in the driveway to see my 14-month old daughter squatted over a puddle on the kitchen floor. She sees me, bolts upright, back peddles in place like a cartoon character, and lands on her behind, soiling the yellow dress I had put on her just 15 minutes before. Just beyond her is my 8-year old, who was sitting on his behind next to dirty diaper, sticking one fecal matter-covered foot in the air.
The 9-year old and 6-year old were running in circles around the other two yelling, "What do we do?! What do we do?!" The 4-year old was sitting on the beanbag watching TV; none of this had yet risen to a level that he deemed more important than the cartoon he was watching.
I was in disbelief that my four boys didn't notice their baby sister remove her diaper, right in front of the TV, dump a bowel movement out of said diaper and then waddle to the kitchen to urinate.
I was just outside (that time) for less than 15 minutes.
Wow.
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