Wednesday, November 26, 2008



Last month, after working late, I came home to find Dave chasing Jo down the hall. He tells me “I’ve nicknamed this one Gidget. It’s short for getting-in-ta-shit.

Last week, Gidget lived up to her nickname.

Shortly before bedtime, we were hanging around on the upstairs landing. Bek and Lex were playing on the floor and Jo was busy shuttling toys, diapers and clothes back and forth from her room to ours. She's been doing a lot of this sort of thing lately— little construction projects and the like. Anyway, Dave and I were trying to chat and catch up on our days. After a few minutes we hear Jo clanging around in the bathroom down the hall, and she returns with a few bath toys. Then back she goes for another load.

A few more minutes pass and we realize Jo hasn't come back in a while. We can still hear her banging around on the bathroom tile and babbling.

Dave went downstairs to get pajamas and I went in to get Jo.

She came barreling out of the bathroom with Bek’s toothbrush in one hand and an angry, angry face. There was brown matter all over the toothbrush, face and hair.


One of the girls had not flushed after they were done going number two. I quickly deduced that Jo had spent the past few minutes stirring the toilet water with her sister’s tooth brush and then decided to give her nasty, newly-made soup a try. Apparently, the taste repulsed her so she spit it out while simultaneously shaking her head vigorously. The results were foul.

I quickly shouted “Code Red! Code Red! This Is Not A Drill! I Repeat, This is Not a Drill!” and swiftly closed the door so the older girls could not see what just happened. Dave bounded into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

We put Jo up on the counter and proceeded to scrub her face, hair, and especially her tongue. I asked Dave if we should call the doctor.

“Uh, yeah, Doc? Got a quick question for you…. Our 15 month old just ate her sister’s….”

But Jo was happy as could be. She only got bent out of shape when we pried the toothbrush out of her tiny fingers. Beyond that, she was all smiles - flashing that shit-eating grin of hers.

I told the story to SherrySteckly and she responded, “Perhaps she thinks she’s Jo the Plumber?”.


Grody to the max.
Parenthood is not for the faint of heart, my friend. Nor for the faint of stomach.
That is the worst case of potty mouth I've ever heard of! Eww...
I really needed that little story after nearly two weeks of being sick with the kids.

Those are the stories that make being parents worth it - just wait until you can pull that one out when she gets older!
Holy. Moley.
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